Stray Thoughts
by Shade's Ninde
Summary: As Kaldur attempts to come to grips with his feelings for his old friend, he has to face the realities of Roy's past as well. Roy/Kaldur. Rated for language and references to drug use.
1. One

I don't own Young Justice. This was originally written in response to a prompt on the anon meme, but has taken a bit of a life of its own.

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><p><strong>Stray Thoughts<strong>

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><p>"It is…an inconvenience," said Kaldur, his voice quiet, his posture calculated.<p>

Dinah fixed him with a look.

"An inconvenience," she repeated skeptically, crossing her legs and settling back in her chair. "You've come to speak with me about an _inconvenience."_

"A distraction," Kaldur amended, frowning. "I do not wish for it to affect my performance on the team, or as leader. I had hoped you could help me to…overcome it."

"You may have to, you know, actually talk about it," said Dinah, raising an eyebrow. "Is that going to be a problem?"

Kaldur shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"No," he said finally.

"Good," Dinah nodded. "When did you first encounter this…distraction?"

Hesitating a moment, Kaldur contemplated his answer.

"It has been…a month, perhaps," he said. "I had hoped it would pass with time. But I find myself thinking of it more often, rather than less and I…I am at a loss."

"Did anything cause it? Or did it just sort of happen?"

Kaldur frowned.

"It was related to our training exercise," he admitted quietly.

"The extraterrestrial scenario?" Dinah checked, and he nodded. "What about it?"

"Just before I sacrificed myself for the others, when I realized I would die, a…a thought came to me. It was surprising, even to me, and I have been unable to shake it since."

Dinah sighed.

"Kaldur, if we're going to make any progress here, you're going to need to be a little more specific."

Closing his eyes, Kaldur nodded.

"Just before I passed, I found myself wishing another were there with me. Not because I willed their death, but because I wanted them to see that my own was noble. I wanted them to know that I had done my…_our_ work justice."

"So this distraction is a person," Dinah confirmed.

"Yes."

"And a hero."

Kaldur tensed, realizing he'd given away too much already, but he could not deny what he'd already let slip.

"Yes."

"And not Aquaman."

"No!" Kaldur protested, his head jerking up. "No, I…it was not that…that sort of thought."

If it was even possible, Dinah thought she might have seen the Atlantean blushing. To be sure, that last comment had made him flustered. Could it be…?

"Kaldur…do you have a crush?" she asked, trying not to look amused. Kids took these things so seriously.

"No," he murmured, rubbing the back of his hand uncomfortably. "It is…worse than that."

She raised an eyebrow.

"You're in love, then."

He pushed his face into his hands wearily, staring at the ground through his fingers and letting out a deep breath.

"I fear it is so."

Had it been anyone else, she might have laughed, but Kaldur was not one for drama or exaggeration. If anything, he was frequently _too_ serious. This was unexpected, but she had to take it at face value. She frowned.

"Kaldur, most people welcome that sort of feeling. Why are you letting it eat at you like this?"

"Many reasons," he sighed, straightening out to look over at her. "I cannot pull my mind away from it. I am compromised, as a leader and a team member. I am a danger to my teammates every moment it distracts me from our missions and I..and I have no hope that any good will ever come of it."

"Why not?"

"That is irrelevant," he objected.

"I don't think it is," said Dinah, leaning forward and clasping her hands on her lap. "Feelings like this – like love – don't just go away because you want them to. If you can't stop thinking about, then perhaps that's a sign you should do something about it instead."

"With all due respect, I have encountered this problem before, and I have learned that it is better to wait for it to pass. I simply wish to learn how to…hurry the process along. For the team's sake. And for my own."

"Kaldur, one experience can't tell you everything there is to know about love," she said gently. "I think I would know."

As he turned to stare out the window for a moment, Kaldur's expression grew more and more conflicted until he returned his gaze to her and shook his head.

"I cannot," he said, his voice slightly hoarse. "Even if…even if I had not already felt this way once before, even if I had not learned how it must inevitably end, I assure you, there is no point in taking action. My feelings would never be reciprocated."

"And why is that?"

"I am well acquainted with this…this person. And I am certain that if they felt anything of what I feel, they would have already approached me."

"Do I know this person?" Dinah asked, cutting him off.

Kaldur looked at her uncomfortably.

"That's a yes, then. Is it a member of your team?"

"I do not see the value of – "

" – I'm trying to help you, Kaldur. Let me."

He sighed.

"No. It is no one on the team."

"Then it's Roy."

He said nothing, just stared at the carpet, looking like he wanted to sink right through it and all the way back down into Atlantis.

"It's understandable," said Dinah, her voice gentler now as she watched him. He looked so damn miserable. It was impossible not to feel sorry for him. "You've been friends for years, so you were already close. And he's done quite a bit of changing lately, what with the solo act and the new name and the new attitude. It makes perfect sense that your feelings would change too."

"You must see what I am saying, then," Kaldur replied, not lifting his eyes from the floor. "He – Red Arrow – Roy – is…direct. If he shared my feelings, he would not hesitate in coming forth with them. Since he has not, I must assume he does not. This is my own burden."

"Look, Kaldur," Dinah said, leaning back once more and looking him over critically. "I understand what you mean about Roy going for the things he wants, but have you considered that he could be a little more complicated than you're giving him credit for?"

"I do not follow."

"You're his best friend in this world," she said flatly. "Perhaps his only friend, now that he's cut off ties with Green Arrow and most of everyone else. I think you owe it to him to be honest. And if he isn't interested, he isn't the type to avoid you for laying yourself out there, either, so you can't possibly be worse off than you are now, moping around and letting it distract you from your responsibilities."

"I…" Kaldur hesitated, biting his lip. "I cannot, he would – "

"You're not going to get peace of mind until this is resolved," Dinah interrupted, an air of finality to her voice. She uncrossed her legs and stood up, one hand on her hip. "So I'm giving you an official assignment to deal with this however you see fit, so long as it is _not_ just brooding more. You've clearly done enough of that."

"That is a…a most untraditional assignment," he murmured uncomfortably.

"You've fought tougher battles," she said, turning to go. "I know you can make it through this one, too. Good luck, Kaldur'ahm. Have a little faith in yourself, all right? I don't mean to overstep my bounds or make any insensitive fish jokes, here, but you're a great catch. Roy should consider himself lucky."

Kaldur watched her go, then turned his gaze back to the window. It seemed he had a mission…and no team to back him up on it, either.


	2. Two

"You're awfully quiet for someone who showed up unannounced," Roy commented, raising an eyebrow and leaning against his doorframe.

Kaldur was standing on the archer's doorstep and silently panicking. He had spent the entire trip over thinking of what to say at this point – something casual (as if he had _ever_ been able to pull off land-casual), something that wouldn't give away his reasons for coming here just yet – but it had all politely excused itself from his head when Roy had opened the door in his civilian clothes because it had been so long since Kaldur had seen him as Roy and not Red Arrow and dammit, he had forgotten how _intense_ his eyes were. Most people looked less intimidating when the mask came off. Not Roy.

"I…I am sorry to intrude," Kaldur stammered. "If it is a bad time…"

"It's fine," Roy said, cutting him off. "I was about to go get some dinner. Come with?"

Nodding mutely, Kaldur waited as Roy vanished into his apartment and emerged a moment later in the process of pulling on a dark leather jacket. Somehow, seeing him like this was strange; the longer they had gone without seeing each other, the more Kaldur had begun to think of him as Red Arrow instead of Roy. Yet there he was, no mask, no quiver, just snug black jeans and a white t-shirt and his red hair and his blue, blue eyes, and he was so human that he was almost attainable except not, because he was _Roy Harper _and even without the costume and the bow and the mystique, he was more than human, and certainly not attainable.

Perhaps that was a little dramatic. Kaldur wrested control of his rambling thoughts as Roy locked his apartment and pocketed the keys.

"So," said Roy, sliding his hands into his jacket pockets and turning back to his old friend. "I was just going to get take-out. Flat's a mess, though, so…"

"I do not mind," Kaldur said quickly.

"All right," Roy shrugged, and descended the stairs to the main street, Kaldur at his heels. "Cheap Korean joint a few blocks down, that okay with you?"

Kaldur nodded. He didn't know how to feel about the utter casualness with which Roy seemed to regard his visit. Was it a good thing that the archer could be this relaxed, this unguarded in his presence? Or did it just mean that Roy didn't really think of him one way or another?

They walked without speaking for a moment, in the double glow of the preemptive streetlights and the sinking sun. It was cold, but not too cold, the neighborhood neither glamorous nor run-down, their silence neither awkward nor companionable – or at least, if it was one or the other, Kaldur couldn't tell which. Roy was the one to break it.

"So, did you want to talk about something?"

"I…" Kaldur began, grasping at any of the words he'd practiced, but none of them did it justice now. It was too soon. "I had an evening free and wanted some time away from the Cave. I have not seen you in some time, so…I…I came to check in."

Roy cast a glance at him.

"Check in?" he repeated skeptically.

Kaldur slid his webbed hands into his pockets, shrugging.

"You have been living and working on your own for seven months now," he said. "We do not see you very much. Not as…not as yourself."

He had to be careful; they were out in the open, and he had no wish to compromise either of their identities. Roy seemed to get the point, though.

"Yeah, well, not a lot of time for play dates when you're working solo full time," he said. "Got bills to pay now, you know, real grown-up stuff."

When Kaldur couldn't help but frown at the dig at the team, Roy reached over and playfully punched him in the arm, a rare smile breaking onto his own face.

"Lighten up, fishsticks," he smirked. "I'm just kidding. Well, not about the bills."

Kaldur returned the smile.

"Ollie does not assist you?"

"He tried," Roy said. "I told him to go stick his money somewhere they want it. No, I work a real job when I have the time, for this Gotham company, Wayne Enterprises. It's run by some billionaire playboy who apparently likes the idea of someone like me doing his security out here. Whatever. Pays the rent."

It was odd to think of Roy grappling with things like rent and groceries, but that was real life – being a superhero didn't pay.

"Here."

The restaurant was cramped and warm, but as Roy had promised, cheap and quick as well. Kaldur knew better than to try and pay for his friend's dinner after their conversation, so both paid their own way and soon they were on the way back, food in hand. As they approached Roy's flat once again, the archer pulled his keys from his pocket and hesitated in front of the door.

"You said you came to check in," he said, the tiniest hint of embarrassment in his voice. "So uh, just…don't look around. Ollie never did get around to teaching me stuff about, you know, housekeeping."

"I will survive a little mess, my friend," Kaldur reassured him.

It was more than a little mess. But Roy shoved the newspaper clippings off the coffee table and dragged the bench out from under the weight press to make a second chair, and managed to find two forks that weren't dirty or could be cleaned with minimal effort, and sank down finally to eat.

"You want a beer or anything?"

Kaldur declined politely – previous experience with land liquor had taught him to – and Roy just grunted in response.

"Yeah, me neither. Patrol tonight."

Pausing with his fork halfway to his mouth, Kaldur hesitated a second before asking,

"Do you need help?"

Roy scoffed, fixing him with a look, and he kicked himself internally – as if Roy would ever have said yes to that. Grateful that the color of his skin hid the reddening of his face, he hastened to apologize.

"I am sorry. I did not mean to imply that…"

"Don't worry about it," Roy said, cutting him off. "I know you didn't."

They lapsed into silence; Kaldur tried not to think about Black Canary's "mission." If he couldn't even maintain a proper interaction with Roy as friends, couldn't even carry on a basic conversation without insulting him he doubted there was much point in pursuing the matter further.

"Company," Roy said suddenly, interrupting his thoughts. He looked over at Kaldur, raising an eyebrow questioningly. "Don't need help, but I could use company. You game?"

Kaldur nodded gratefully.

"Good."

And that was how the two of them ended up on the rooftops of Star City in full costume, the half-moon casting Roy's features into sharp relief as he pressed his finger to his comm in search of an active police channel.

"Mugging on 3rd…police already have it, store break-in on Bancroft, kid stuff…" he was murmuring as Kaldur stood nearby, feeling somewhat useless. "Bar fight on Fitch, not worth my, our, time…small fire on Valencia…"

He turned to Kaldur.

"Your kind of gig, if you want it, but the fire squad's already on their way."

"This is your city," Kaldur demurred.

"All right, let's just hit standard patrol until something more exciting comes along, then," said Roy, checking his bow and quiver before he took off running for the side of the roof and leapt off it. He caught on to the fire escape on the next building over and swinging gracefully onto the landing. Surprised, but not wanting to be left behind, Kaldur ran after him.

Working with Roy was a little like working with Robin – he had such staunchly defined habits, little tics he didn't even realize were tics, patterns of behavior he assumed were second nature to everyone. Since Kaldur had been a hero for less than three years, had lived on land for even less time, he found himself struggling to keep up with his friend. Every so often he would lose him entirely only to have Roy emerge from some shadow and beckon him on, always with an unconscionably smug expression on his face, as if amused by the whole situation.

They made quick work of a few minor crimes while the night was young – a drunken robbery attempt at an electronics store, a domestic fight that had been heading in the wrong direction, and what had looked liked the start of a gang fight but had ended quickly when the nearest water main mysteriously erupted all over the lot of them and sent them all scattering in fear. It didn't help that a strange-looking man with glowing skin had materialized out of the darkness of the nearby alleyway and ordered them in a deep, commanding voice to get home to their mothers.

"Theatrical, but effective," Roy had commented afterwards, as they reconvened atop the roof of the local cathedral, then he tuned back in to the police channel. As Kaldur opened his mouth to reply, though, the archer suddenly stiffened. "Suspected cartel shipment bust. 8th and Ramone. Undercover cop…they're in the final stages of the operation. Action expected within twenty minutes."

He straightened out, feeling for a particular arrow in his quiver.

"We're taking the fast route," he said, nocking it to his bow and firing. The shot soared across several shorter buildings, a line trailing behind it, before it struck its target. Roy affixed the other end to one of the statues atop the cathedral, testing the integrity of the bond with a quick pull, before he held out his hand to Kaldur. "Ready to fly, fish boy?"

Kaldur wasn't. As soon as the ground dropped out from underneath them, the pavement seeming to plummet a hundred meters in an instant, the cold blood froze in his veins. But the speed was too great and the danger too real to allow panic to take over; instead, he focused on the feeling of Roy's gloved hand around his wrist, the calm strength of the archer's grip, the surety of his movement as they soared across the sky. And almost as soon as it had begun, it was over, the two of them tumbling onto a rooftop some six streets over from where they'd begun, and Roy's hand was slipping under his arm and jerking him to his feet.

"You okay?" the archer asked, the hint of a smirk on his face.

"Fine," Kaldur assured him, and hoped Roy couldn't hear how fast his heart was racing as the older boy failed to remove his hand from his tattooed shoulder. In all the night's activities, he had almost forgotten how he had ended up out here in Star City in the first place. But with that one touch, he remembered, and found himself suddenly and secretly enthralled by the fact that Roy was letting him share this, was letting him share his mission and his city and his new life. Then his hand dropped, and the moment was over.

Two streets remained between them and their destination. They took off at a run, and Kaldur found that he'd gotten a better feel for the whole city movement thing; he dropped off of rooftops and leapt onto fire escapes and slid down drainage pipes with much more confidence now, following Roy's practiced lead.

8th and Ramone was a foreclosed harborside medical building, which they infiltrated easily. Roy halted them just inside, crouching down in a shadowed corner to wait.

"Police operation," he murmured to Kaldur, so quiet he could barely understand. "Won't interfere unless it goes wrong."

As if in response to his words, gunshots rang out somewhere above them, and the two were on their feet instantly.

"That's that, then. Split up, look for stairs," Roy directed. Kaldur tore off to the left, Roy to the right, and they separated. It was refreshing, somehow, not to be the one giving orders.

Bare feet pounding the dirty linoleum, Kaldur raced through a long hallway with his waterbearers in hand while moonlight streamed in through a broken window. From above his head, more gunfire rang out, and a siren flared to life with a wail somewhere outside.

As he rounded the corner at a run, a man suddenly burst from a door he hadn't noticed and bowled straight into him, sending them both tumbling to the ground. In the dark it was difficult to tell what side the man was on, but it became clear enough when he drew a gun and fired off a panicked round at Kaldur's head – fortunately, Kaldur had already pulled a shield out of his right waterbearer, leaving his left free to whip the firearm right out of his attacker's hand. Then he sent him flying with a stiff kick, threw the gun out the nearest window and into the harbor below, and raced up the stairs from which the man had come.

He slowed when he approached the top of the stairwell, figuring caution was the more prudent option if he was nearing the source of the violence. As he stepped out onto the next long, dark hallway (it seemed the building had been a hospital, formerly), he caught sight of someone at the far end of the hall, and instinctively redrew his waterbearers, his tattoos flaring to life. But the figure laughed, and he realized it was Roy, who had apparently approached from the opposite end of the building.

Just as Kaldur stepped forward to rejoin his friend, doors on both sides of the hallways flew open and several black-masked men stormed out, guns blazing.

"Not even original!" Kaldur heard Roy yell disappointedly from the other end, then both of them were charging forward, the archer and the swordsman rushing to battle as Kaldur morphed his waterbearers into twin blades and threw himself upon the enemy.

It was almost like old times, when their mentors had occasionally let them do joint missions, except this time it was just the two of them and the gunfire and the adrenaline of the danger, no _real _superheroes to step in and save them because they _were_ the real superheroes, and of course there was the whole part where Kaldur was sort of in love with Roy, that was different too, but the thrill was almost the same. Maybe a little bit scarier. Maybe a little bit better because of it.

The space between them closed as they eliminated their opponents one by one, fighting their way to the center of the hall, and each other. Roy had become too tightly engaged to keep up his archery; now he was simply using his bow as a close-range weapon, slamming it and his own fists and legs into heads and stomachs as he ducked and weaved between the hapless goons. On the other side, Kaldur was taking them down in his usual calm, methodical way, water constructs flickering between them to flip guns and knives out of their hands and trip them mid-rush. Then there they were, the two of them standing back-to-back and breathing lightly in this sea of groaning henchmen.

"Kind of refreshing to have a little backup for stuff like this," Roy commented, turning to give Kaldur a grin.

But Kaldur was scanning the room and the door from which the men had come.

"The undercover officer," he said uncertainly. "He would not have attacked us. We should find him."

"Her," Roy corrected. "According to dispatch, at least. But yes, good point. Gunfire wasn't a good sign. You take left, I'll take right?"

Kaldur nodded and moved forward into the first room on the left cautiously. There was no guarantee they had eliminated all the cartel affiliates, so he kept one hand on the hilt of his waterbearers as he crept through the darkness. But that room turned out empty, nothing lurking behind the splintered old office desks. He returned to the hallway and moved to the next, then froze with his foot halfway in the door when something inside it made a sound, a sort of low, pained groaning.

It was a woman, collapsed against the wall, her fingers tightly pressed into a wound in her upper arm; the sleeve of her shirt was soaked with blood and she seemed barely conscious. On the floor next to her, beneath a wall riddled with bullet holes, was a bloodied police badge. As Kaldur hurried to her side, her eyes flicked up at him fearfully and she tried to move away, but he crouched down and placed a hand on her uninjured shoulder.

"I am a friend," he reassured her. "You are safe now."

"The take," the woman gasped out, shaking her head. "The boss, he has the take..."

"Your squad is here," Kaldur said, shaking his head. "The building is surrounded. He will not escape."

"Then they'll take care of me. You…you have to go. The mission is more important."

"She's right," Roy said, appearing in the doorway. He seemed almost a part of the darkness, despite the bright red of his chestpiece. "Cops are on their way up, they'll get her to an ambulance. Let's move, Aqualad."

Reluctantly, Kaldur left the wounded officer's side and followed Roy back into the hallway.

"The shipment is upstairs," Roy grunted, leading the way. "Had a little chat with one of our friends from before."

One of them men on the floor of the hallway groaned in response. With a disinterested glance down, Roy stepped over him and headed up the stairs at a brisk jog. Then they were exiting into the pitch black of the upper hallway, eyes adjusting gradually, relying on their other senses to guide them.

"Here," Roy murmured, putting his hand on Kaldur's arm to get his friend's attention (and his location). He moved off towards the left, towards a cracked door through which the faintest sliver of moonlight was spilling. Slowly, cautiously, he pressed a hand to the door, edging it open.

It was an old storeroom, probably once used to hold drugs of an entirely different sort. A single window lit it from the far side, out of which they could see the still water of the harbor, The two heroes stepped inside, and a sweet yet somehow bitter smell, like sugar and vinegar and something else stranger, washed over them. Just as Kaldur moved forward towards the bins piled on the old shelves, Roy suddenly reached out to grip his arm, the fingers wrapping around his wrist painfully tight, and to his surprise, the archer's hand was _shaking_.

"Red Arrow?" he asked quickly, turning to his friend in concern.

Roy was pale-faced yet expressionless, his body tense and trembling.

"You should take care of this," the archer ground out, his voice strained, grip tightening yet further on Kaldur's arm until he seemed to force himself to let go. He took an uncharacteristically ungraceful step backwards. "I'll…go track down…the ringleader."

"Is something wrong?" Kaldur asked worriedly, stepping in to cut Roy's exit off. What was going on? The behavior was extremely uncharacteristic, too much so to be ignored.

"No!" Roy gasped, a little too loudly. "Just…need to get…get out…move, Aqualad. Out of my way."

But before Kaldur had time to comply, something burst out of the shadows on the other side of the shelves and gunfire exploded in the room, all light and noise and Roy's loud curse as they both dove out of the way, Kaldur lunging out of the room while Roy leapt further into it and rolled.

Kaldur was back on his feet and charging in in an instant, even as he heard more footsteps pounding the stairs, heading up to their level. In the storeroom, the shadowed figure was crouched behind the drug bins, firing a semi-automatic pistol randomly between them; Kaldur raced towards Roy, who was breathing unnaturally heavily, his dodging far more sluggish than it ought to have been. 

"Get down!" Kaldur ordered, sensing something was seriously wrong. But Roy seemed unwilling; he gritted his teeth and leapt up on top of one of the shelves, drawing an arrow from his quiver and firing it off in the direction of their attacker – it stuck to the wall behind the figure's head, then exploded, blasting a hole in the side of the building and toppling several shelves with the recoil. Jumping clear in the nick of time, Roy landed back next to Kaldur as a trickle of sweat ran down his jaw.

"Red Arrow, is there something – "

But a single gunshot interrupted Kaldur's question, and Roy suddenly let out a harsh yell of pain, staggering forward and catching himself on his bow as left hand flew to his right shoulder.

Kaldur was across the room in a flash, bounding across the tops of the shelves and hurling himself upon their unseen assailant, who fired a single shot that went wild as a rope of water sent the gun flying out of the hole in the wall and into the night. At the same time, the sound of pounding feet grew louder and louder and three police officers burst into the room, guns drawn and trained on everyone in the room. Swiftly, Kaldur used the side of his water bearers to knock their attacker unconscious, then looked to Roy just in time to see his friend throw the window open and jump clumsily from it, his bow forgotten on the floor of the storeroom in a spatter of his own blood.

The officers let out a yell and rushed to the windowsill, but it was Kaldur who pushed past them and leapt right after the archer, both of them plummeting towards the harbor below. The police could take it from there – he had a friend to look out for.

They struck the water seconds apart, Roy crashing down into the harbor noisily while Kaldur slipped into it without so much as a splash. Beneath the surface, barely lit by the moonlight, Kaldur could see his friend drifting listlessly as blood trailed from a wound just above his right collarbone. Flaring his gills and taking in a breath of the cold water, he propelled himself forward and wrapped his arms around Roy's chest, kicking out and sending them both rushing upwards. They surfaced and the archer gasped for air as he let Kaldur drag him to the rocky shore, where the Atlantean shoved him clear of the waves and crawled up onto the land beside him.

Panting, Roy caught his breath for a minute or so, then rolled to his side to face Kaldur.

"Knew I could do that with you here," he said with a pained grin.

"That was reckless," Kaldur reprimanded, trying not to show how panicked he was. He reached for Roy's shoulder, wanting to see the extent of the damage, but the archer knocked his hand away with a noise of pain he couldn't quite suppress.

"Don't. I know. Stupid of me. I'm sorry," he ground out.

Kaldur bit back his next words. He wanted to ask what the hell had happened back there, why the second they'd come into that room, Roy had completely fallen off his game, exposing himself to that shot. But while his friend was lying there bleeding and the sirens still wailed some fifty yards off, he couldn't bring himself to do it.

"I am taking you to get help," he told him at last, helping his friend to his feet, careful of his hurt shoulder.

"No!" Roy objected, gritting his teeth and pressing his hand back onto the wound. "No. Take me home. I've had worse."

"You are lying, my friend."

"Take me home anyway," Roy shot back. "I'll deal with this on my own."

"Red Arrow," Kaldur said pointedly, hand still on the archer's arm to steady him. "There is no need for such an act around me. You need a doctor's help. Let me take you to one."

Roy suddenly turned, pressing his forehead to Kaldur's and closing his eyes, his breathing still somewhat ragged but more even than it had been a moment before. He was hunched slightly in pain, and for a moment Kaldur thought he was going to collapse, but then he spoke instead.

"Kal," he said, his voice quiet, and Kaldur realized he had just made the jump from Red Arrow to Roy, from their superhero identities to their real ones. "Kal, no. Please. Just take me home. I'll explain later."

The Atlantean hesitated, surprised by this sudden show of vulnerability – perhaps getting shot had that effect on people – then reluctantly relented.

"At least let me stay with you," he bartered. Roy nodded, eyes still closed.

"It'll be a right old slumber party," he said with a dry, weak laugh.

As they limped back towards Roy's apartment, Kaldur's hand on his friend's back to support him, he radioed the Cave, leaving a message for Black Canary. How the hell was he going to explain this?

_Delayed in Star City on important mission. Will return when assignment is complete._


	3. Three

"Dammit," Roy swore quietly as the key slipped out of his bloodied fingers, falling to the doormat below.

Kaldur stooped to get it, casting a glance behind them. Little droplets of Roy's blood had fallen to the pavement as they'd come, marking the way all the back to his apartment, and this worried him – he wasn't sure his friend was lucid enough to notice, and they didn't need anyone snooping around. Making a mental note to come back and clean it up before the night was out, he slipped the key into the lock and let them both inside.

The leftover Korean food was still lying out on the table; the dirty dishes were still in the sink. Everything was exactly as they'd left it.

"Bathroom," Roy grunted. He seemed barely able to stand on his own now, supported mostly by the arm Kaldur had around his back, and his skin was cold and clammy to the touch. Kaldur steered them in the right direction, helping his friend into the cramped little room and turning on the light, which flickered on after a few seconds.

In the mirror, Roy's face was pale and beaded with sweat, his jaw clenched tighter than usual as he peeled off the trench coat he'd used to hide his costume and dropped it to the ground. Blood was seeping from the place where the bullet had pierced his right shoulder, trickling down his arm, bright red against his pale skin. Checking it out in the mirror, the archer swore quietly.

Kaldur watched as Roy reached up to unbuckle his quiver, dropping it to the ground without much ceremony; the strap of it had been just next to the wound, preventing him from accessing it.

"Shades," Roy muttered, as if suddenly remembering. "Could you…?"

Kaldur nodded, ducking out of the bathroom and going to pull the blinds around the rest of the apartment shut – they didn't need anyone watching this and asking questions. While he was in the bedroom, he pulled the blankets back and arranged the pillows, then returned to the bathroom, where Roy had peeled the top half of his uniform down to his waist, revealing the wound (and everything else). The archer was fumbling around in a drawer, his hips braced against the counter to keep himself from falling over. Kaldur put a hand on his back to steady him and frowned in concern.

Finally, Roy withdrew his hand from the drawer, clutching a pair of tweezers.

"Should…sterilize," he mumbled half-deliriously. Kaldur reached out to gently take the tweezers from his friend's hand, then turned on the tap as hot as it would go and ran the metal under the water with some liquid soap that had been sitting on the counter. Then he handed them back to Roy, the only sound in the room the archer's own ragged breathing.

Kaldur tried not to watch as Roy dug the bullet out of his shoulder, but he was too worried to look away. From the way Roy was gritting his teeth and his hands were trembling, it was clear just how painful this was, but he didn't make a sound as he finally jerked the tweezers out of the wound, the bloody, warped metal of the bullet clasped between the prongs. Gasping, Roy collapsed against the counter, the tweezers dropping from his twitching hands and clattering to the floor beside the trench coat and the quiver. Kaldur slid a hand onto his friend's bare back, feeling his harsh breathing gradually quiet, his trembling gradually cease.

"Need to clean it," Roy mumbled, as if reminding himself.

"Let me," Kaldur implored.

Roy nodded.

"Not fair," he grumbled as Kaldur grasped his hips and gently lifted him up onto the counter, giving himself easier access to Roy's injured shoulder. "Superpowers…"

Kaldur didn't bother to correct him; it seemed petty and useless to remind his friend that his superior strength and thick skin were just his physiology, not a superpower, especially when Roy was sitting there bleeding out on his own bathroom counter.

Adjusting the tap to a temperature that would be hot enough to sterilize but not hot enough to hurt, Kaldur reached out his hands and took control of the stream. Gently, carefully, he redirected the flow over Roy's bloodied shoulder, noticing when the archer's grip on the edge of the counter turned white-knuckled and easing the pressure just a little with a soft apology. When he was satisfied that the wound was clean, he let the water drop bank into the sink and followed Roy's muttered instructions about where to find bandages.

"You need a doctor, my friend," the Atlantean murmured as he leaned forward to wind the bandages around Roy's shoulder, distracted by the archer's breath on the side of his neck – the warm air tickled his gills.

"You're doing fine," Roy mumbled drowsily, letting his head loll down to his chest.

"You have lost much blood."

"I'll be fine."

"The wound is deep. It may become infected."

"It'll be fine."

"Roy," Kaldur said sternly, tying off the bandages and resting one hand on his friend's knee, waiting for him to look back up at him. "Your stubbornness will kill you if you are not careful."

"I'm being careful," Roy protested with a frown. _"You're_ here."

Kaldur wasn't entirely sure what Roy meant by that, but he knew better than to try to argue with him at this point. The bleeding had slowed, if not stopped, and the inevitable struggle Roy would put up if Kaldur actually tried to take him to a doctor would have undone all the good they had done in treating it thus far, so he simply sighed and relented, pulling his hand back.

"Fine."

"Bed," Roy mumbled.

Kaldur nodded, then hesitated a moment. Roy was not dressed for sleep – the top half of his costume was pooled around his waist and he was still in his mud-splattered boots, for starters. Unsure what was expected of him, and not wanting to overstep his bounds, Kaldur tried to start with the obvious, reaching forward and unbuckling Roy's belt. When his friend didn't move to stop him, he detached it from the leg straps and set it down on the counter; next he pulled Roy's boots off and slid the various pouches and pockets strapped to his thighs down and off. This revealed the seam line of his costume, and with silent relief, Kaldur unzipped the upper portion from the lower and maneuvered it off his friend's shoulders, moving slowly and carefully as not to rub up against his injury.

Last of all, he reached up and hesitantly brushed his fingers along the edge of Roy's mask. It wasn't as though they didn't already know one another's identities, yet somehow it felt very forward to remove someone else's mask, even in the privacy of his own home. But when Roy didn't move to do it himself, just sat there on the counter expectantly, Kaldur nodded and gently peeled the disguise away.

Beneath it, Roy's eyes were half-lidded and hazy. They were also very blue, and looking _right_ at him.

Swallowing, Kaldur eased his friend off the counter, and when Roy mumbled something about carrying him that sounded vaguely like a death threat, helped him make his way to the bedroom with a hand on his back and Roy's uninjured arm around his shoulders.

The second he eased Roy down onto the bed, the archer's eyes slid shut and he was out, as if it had taken an extraordinary effort to stay awake even that long. Kaldur sighed, adjusting the pillows beneath Roy's head to make him more comfortable and gently pulling the covers up over his bandaged chest.

"Good night, my friend," he whispered.

Looking down at Roy's pale, sleeping face, and at the bloodied bandages peeking out of the blankets, Kaldur had a feeling this was not what Black Canary had had in mind when she'd sent him out here. But at least Roy was breathing – he could tell by the slow rise and fall of his chest – and at least…well, no, there wasn't really another "at least." He hadn't told Roy any of the things he'd come here to tell him, and the entire near future had just become a very bad time to do so. He had to be there to care for him. He couldn't complicate this already complicated situation with anything as silly as a declaration of love. It would be unthinkably selfish.

Looking around the dark room, Kaldur found his nerves were running too high even to contemplate sleep, and beyond that there would have been no place for him to do so, anyway, given the mess covering the couch and the rest of everything. There was work to be done, here. He might as well do it.

With one more glance at his friend's sleeping form, Kaldur reassured himself that Roy would be fine for a few minutes at least, and quietly let himself out the front door, shrugging on his weapon pack as he did.

The morning sun was just beginning to lighten the edges of the sky when Kaldur stepped outside and rolled up his sleeves. He didn't have much time. Fortunately, it wouldn't take much – he figured he just needed to backtrack a mile or so to be safe, and he could cover that distance long before the shadows disappeared. So he set off, drawing his waterbearers and sending a firm spray across the ground that erased the tell-tale signs of their return journey from the pavement as he went.

When he was convinced the trail had been wiped clean, he made his way back to Roy's apartment. The adrenaline had begun to wear off, tiredness settling into his limbs like a heavy load, but he kept himself together – Roy needed someone to look after him right now. Locking the front door behind him, Kaldur slipped silently into the bedroom to check on his friend, whom he found sleeping deeply but definitely alive, and breathed a sigh of relief.

He was certain he would drift off himself if he sat down in that darkened room, so he shut the bedroom door without a sound and flicked on the lights for the rest of the apartment.

It was a mess. Clearly, between holding a real job and keeping up the hero act, Roy hadn't had time to do the whole housekeeping thing – there were dishes piled in the sink, clothes and books and newspapers strewn across the living room, long-expired containers of food on the shelves, and now bloodstains in the carpet and on the tile in the bathroom. With a sigh, Kaldur removed his civilian coat, hanging it on the doorknob, and got to work.

As he worked his way through the place, patient and methodical as ever, Kaldur found his mind drifting. In all the night's excitement, he had nearly forgotten why he'd come here in the first place – it had seemed more important to focus on Roy's wound than on his bare, sculpted chest, more pressing to get him to bed than to consider the fact that in some bizarre way, he was getting to spend the night. But then again, their relationship had been rooted in deep respect and admiration (at least on Kaldur's part) in the first place, so it wasn't a surprise that he had wanted to see Roy safe before he'd wanted to see him naked.

And besides, the whole thing was inevitably inexplicable – he couldn't expect to understand his feelings. Roy was nothing like Tula. Tula had been sweet and kind and honest, full of earnest energy and good will; Kaldur had loved her because she had been the one saving grace of his otherwise lonely and isolated childhood, the only one who had never mocked him for being so serious, for looking so different, or for not having a father; he had loved her even while he had somehow always known she wouldn't love him back. He was too much of an outsider, and always had been. She was too much a part of everything to be chained to someone who had never really belonged.

But then Roy…Roy was _nothing_ like Tula. Roy was impulsive and rough and temperamental, even for a land-dweller, shoving people away for reasons ungiven, holding his secrets close, bottling his bitterness up like gunpowder to be exploded at a later date. Roy was everything Kaldur was not. He was impatient and cocky and oh-so sure of himself, prone to fits of prideful anger and frequently disappearing without warning for weeks on end. He was as unpredictable as Kaldur was steady, and yet Kaldur found himself strangely drawn to that, to all the fire and poison and secrecy that was Roy, because underneath it all there was a man unashamed to be exactly what he was, unafraid to fight for what he believed in, and too impatient to wait for anyone's permission to do it.

Loving Tula had been easy. Thus far, loving Roy was not. But easy wasn't really the point, was it?

Love was in the electric thrill of chasing Roy through the darkened streets of his city. Love was in watching the muscles in his arms ripple as he swung out on a grappling line. Love was in seeing that unaccountably alluring smirk crawl onto his face when he finished the fight and turned to see you watching, his true expression a mystery behind the mask.

By the time Kaldur had finished with the apartment, sunlight was streaming in through the blinds, the tile floor of the kitchen was practically reflecting it back, and he was asleep on his feet. Worse still, training started at the Cave in an hour. He hoped that Black Canary had received his message, because there was no way he was leaving just yet, not with Roy still dead to the world in the next room and no one else to look after him.

Figuring there was nothing to do but wait at this point, Kaldur slipped back into the bedroom without a sound, eyes trailing over the unconscious archer. Roy hadn't moved an inch throughout the night, but he was still breathing, and though the blood was still seeping through the bandages criss-crossing his shoulders and chest, it had slowed. Satisfied, Kaldur took a seat on the floor by the bed and settled in to watch over his friend.

He awoke to a calloused hand on the side of his face, gently nudging him awake.

"Kal," Roy muttered as Kaldur looked drowsily up at him from where he still sat on the floor. "You imbecile. You could have gone home."

"I am sorry," Kaldur said hurriedly, sitting up as Roy retracted his hand. He had fallen asleep with his head pressed to the side of the bed, which had given him a magnificent crick in the neck. Meanwhile, Roy was sitting up and looking around in confusion, the blankets pooled around his waist.

"Why is my apartment so clean?"

Kaldur didn't feel the need to supply an answer; he just shrugged uncomfortably. Roy gave him a disbelieving look. 

"Jesus, you didn't have anything better to do?"

"You were rather uncommunicative," said Kaldur defensively.

"Yeah well I…" Roy began, trying to lift his right arm, but he cut himself off with a hiss of pain. "Shit. Last night really didn't go as planned, did it?"

"If your plan was to avoid getting shot, then I suppose it did not."

Roy laughed, and Kaldur's stomach lurched. The archer was nice enough to look at even when he was scowling. The laugh was impossibly attractive.

Roy eased himself back down onto the pillows with a yawn.

"When did you get so sassy?"

"My apologies," said Kaldur. "I have been…concerned. Perhaps my concern has made me, as you say, sassy."

Roy shook his head, an amused smirk on his face.

"Yeah that, or the fact that you slept on my floor."

As he spoke, Roy was maneuvering himself out of bed, sliding his legs over the side and moving as if to stand. Kaldur scrambled to his feet and held out his hands to help, but Roy pushed them away impatiently and stood up on his own, taking a few halting steps into the room.

"I got this," he said. "I'm injured, not incapacitated."

"You have lost enough blood to put an ordinary man in a coma, my friend," Kaldur objected, following closely behind, ready to catch his friend if he should collapse.

"Yeah well, I guess I'm just extraordinary."

With an exasperated sigh, Kaldur allowed the irresponsible independence, but continued to trail behind just in case. When they reached the bathroom, Roy suddenly turned around, forcing Kaldur to stop abruptly to avoid bumping heads. With a hint of that damned smirk, he leaned his uninjured shoulder against the doorframe casually.

"I was going to go take a shower," he said, arching an eyebrow. "If you're really _that _worried, you're welcome to keep watch…but somehow that doesn't seem like your style."

Kaldur flushed, taking a hurried step back.

"I am sorry, I did not mean to…"

"It's fine," Roy laughed, turning away. "I'll yell if I start bleeding uncontrollably or I drop the soap, okay?"

Kaldur nodded mutely as the door shut in his face. For a moment, he stood there, rooted to the spot, confused and excited and thrilled all at once. Had Roy been…_flirting_ with him? Or was he just loopy from the blood loss?

From the other side of the door, the sound of the shower coming on jolted Kaldur out of his daydream. He moved into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator distractedly; Roy would need some real food when he got out. Unfortunately, it seemed the archer treated groceries the way he treated housework: the fridge was pretty bare, but at least there was an unexpired carton of eggs and half an onion. Pulling them out, Kaldur set about making some kind of scramble on the stove, trying not to think about what was going on in the room next door in any sort of context – neither worrying nor fantasizing was going to help him any right now.

Just as he began scraping the eggs off onto a clean plate, the bathroom door opened and Roy stepped out, dripping wet, a towel wrapped around his waist and his wound exposed – he had taken off the bandages, and beneath, his shoulder was inflamed and bleeding anew, albeit slowly.

"Little help?"

Nodding, Kaldur fetched fresh bandages from the cupboard beneath the sink and set about rewrapping the injury while Roy sat obediently on the kitchen chair.

"You made me breakfast?"

He had noticed the plate of eggs.

"You need to eat," Kaldur shrugged, tying off the wrappings and stepping back to examine his handiwork. Unfortunately, what he inevitably ended up examining was Roy's exposed body, and had to yank his eyes away before he could formulate a sentence to fill the silence that had suddenly welled up between them.

"You promised me an explanation, my friend," he reminded Roy as he set the plate of eggs on the table in front of his friend and handed him a fork.

"Of what?" asked Roy.

Kaldur took a seat across from him, folding his hands on the table as Roy dug into the eggs without hesitation.

"Of your unusual behavior last night."

Roy looked a little too quickly, then controlled his expression, fork dangling in his left hand as he chewed.

"I don't remember a whole lot of last night, to be perfectly honest," he said. "Refresh my memory."

"I have never seen you lose focus in the middle of a mission before," said Kaldur, frowning. "Not until last night."

"Oh," Roy said, frowning deeply and looking back down. "I…right, I'd…it's…look, it's kind of a long story. I'd rather not get into it, if you don't mind."

"If it is going to put you in that kind of danger again, my friend, then I mind very much."

"It won't happen again," said Roy, taking a bite and avoiding Kaldur's eyes. "I just had other things on my mind and I was caught off guard by…by the smell."

"The smell?" Kaldur repeated with a frown.

"Kal…you're happier not knowing this," Roy said seriously. "Trust me."

"I do," said Kaldur quietly. "But it seems you do not trust me in turn."

Roy sighed in frustration, pushing his hand through his hair distractedly.

"Look, can we just not do this now? I'm fourteen hours off of getting shot and I'm sitting here in a towel and you just cleaned my entire apartment and made me breakfast and it's just really not the right moment to open this particular can of worms."

Kaldur stared at his friend for a long moment before he finally nodded. It wasn't fair to press answers out of someone in a state like this.

They passed the rest of the meal in silence, until Roy finally rose with his dirty dishes, making his way over to the sink.

"Now I feel obligated to keep up with your standards," he grumbled, trying to ease the tension.

Kaldur half-smiled and nudged his friend away from the counter to take over the job of washing up.

"You should rest," he said quietly.

"And you should go home," Roy said, leaning back against the counter. "Your team is probably wondering where the hell their fearless leader's got to."

Kaldur couldn't deny that. As he set the dishes aside to try, he hesitated a moment.

"You are certain you will be all right?"

Roy smirked.

"Look, it's cute that you're all worried about me, but yes, I'll be fine. Go home, Kaldur. Go see your team and eat a decent meal and sleep in an actual bed."

Reluctantly, Kaldur picked up his jacket, zipping it up to cover his gills as he stepped to the door.

"You will contact me if you need anything?"

Roy raised an eyebrow.

"Have you _ever_ known me to do that?"

Kaldur frowned. He was trying to be serious.

"All right, fine," Roy relented. "I'll keep my comm on."

As Kaldur opened the door and stepped out into the afternoon sunlight, Roy suddenly reached out to catch his arm.

"Kaldur?"

"Yes?"

"Don't…don't tell Ollie about this, okay?"

Kaldur hesitated a moment, unsure if he could make that promise in good conscience, then slowly nodded.

"Your business is your own, my friend."

As the door shut behind him, he began the trek to the zeta-tubes, blinking blearily into the bright light. Black Canary was bound to have questions, and at the moment, even _he_ wasn't sure how to answer them.


	4. Four

Summary change because the fic ate my original plans. Sorry for any confusion.

* * *

><p>"Nice of you to join us," Robin remarked sarcastically as Kaldur stepped out of the transporter – it was about three hours after their normal lunch break would have ended, and Canary was working the team hard at some kind of dodging exercise. The simulator had been programmed to hurl holographic chunks of rock and detritus at them, and Conner was complaining that in real life, he could just smash all of it, while M'gann objected that her telekinesis didn't work on holograms.<p>

"Aqualad," Canary's voice cut through the others' sharply as the simulation paused, giving Artemis a chance to sidestep a flying train carriage that had been about to 'strike' her. "A word, please."

Wally grinned as he and Robin chorused an ominous "oooooh" like kids watching someone get set to the principal's office, while the others just stared in silence. Nodding mutely, Kaldur followed Canary into the hallway, where the stern expression suddenly dropped off her face and she placed a hand on his arm in concern.

"You look terrible," she frowned. "I got your message. You were gone for so long I assumed the best, but…what happened?"

"It is…complicated," Kaldur began, feeling almost too tired to recount it. He recalled his promise to Roy not to tell Ollie, but Dinah was not Ollie. She could be trusted to keep the secret, even if she was Green Arrow's lover (as the team suspected she might be). Hesitating a moment, he eventually relented and told her of the night's events – how he had accompanied Roy on patrol, how they had spent the night without incident until the drugs bust had gone wrong, how he had taken him home and cared for him to the best of his ability until his safety had seemed assured. He left out Roy's strange behavior during the fight, though, figuring that Canary would be no more able to explain it than he.

"Well that's not exactly what I sent you to do," Canary mused when he was done, letting out a long breath. "But it sounds like it's a good thing you were there. You look like death, though, Kaldur. You need to sleep."

"I am worried about Red Arrow," he objected quietly. "His wound is severe, and I fear his resources are inadequate for proper treatment. But since I do not believe he would consent to coming here, I must return."

"We can send someone over," Canary suggested. "I'm sure Kid Flash would be glad of the chance to get away from the Cave a little while."

Her tone of voice suggested that Wally had been particularly difficult that day, but Kaldur shook his head.

"My apologies, but I would prefer it were me. Roy is stubborn, and I worry that Wally is not…forceful enough to insist on reason."

"Probably fair," Canary conceded. "Well…if you really want to do this, I'm not going to stand in your way. I'll cover for you with the team. You go get cleaned up, and I'll have a kit ready for you to take over by 19:00. Eat something, Kaldur. And promise me you'll sleep tonight. You can't take care of anyone if you aren't taking care of yourself."

"Understood," Kaldur nodded. "Thank you. I am sorry to be shirking my duties for the team for this, but I am unsure he would accept another's help."

Black Canary gave him a mischievous smile.

"So you're special, hmm?"

Kaldur flushed.

"I did not mean to imply such a thing."

She laughed, putting a hand on his back as they headed back towards the training room.

"You don't have to be embarrassed about it. I've known Roy since Ollie took him in. He's…particular. That he's let you this close is remarkable enough."

Kaldur did not respond; something in him was still reluctant to hope that Roy's attitude towards him really was any different than Roy's attitude towards anyone else. True, they had grown close since his arrival on the surface, but just as allies – there was no reason to believe Roy regarded him as anything other than a friend. As they emerged back into the simulation room, Canary's expression turned hard and stern again, but she kept her arm on his back and gave him a gentle push towards the stairs.

"Off you go," she muttered. "19:00 by the tubes."

He nodded his confirmation, then turned and bowed his head to his team, respectful and apologetic.

Wally opened his mouth as if to say something, but Conner shoot him a look and shook his head and the speedster fell silent. They all seemed to get from the slump in Kaldur's normally perfect posture that something was out of sorts, and let him go without a word.

"All right, team, get back to work, we're going to run this scenario again, but with a man down. Wally, you're first dead weight…"

Canary's voice faded out of hearing as Kaldur ascended the stairs towards the personal quarters. He was looking forward to a nice cold shower, a change of clothes, a moment to gather his thoughts. Already, his mind was drifting forward to what he needed to bring with him – not just an overnight kit for himself, but all the things Roy needed, that he would never ask for…

He descended the staircase with a duffel bag at ten minutes to 1900 hours, showered and changed and feeling refreshed, if not rested. Canary was sorting through some things in a smaller pack, and looked up as he approached.

"Early, as always," she nodded approvingly. She handed him the pack, pulling things out of it one by one to show him its contents. "Three fresh rolls of medical-grade bandaging, two slings – you can decide which one's a better match for his injury – , two tubes of antiseptic, topical anti-inflammatory cream, and seven vials of healing accelerant and…that should be all."

Kaldur looked it over and nodded, though one thing seemed curious…

"I believe he is a considerable amount of pain," he said hesitantly. He didn't want to look like he was challenging Black Canary, but he was confused at the omission. "Perhaps morphine or oxymorphone…?"

"It's a bad idea," Canary replied flatly. "I'm afraid you're going to have to trust me on this."

Kaldur did, though he was puzzled. Canary continued.

"I should also warn you that he isn't going to want to take the accelerant. You'll need to deliver the injection yourself. Are you familiar with the procedure?"

Kaldur nodded – he'd had medical training in the Atlantean military, as well as since coming surfaceside. But all of this was a little mysterious, as if Canary knew something about Roy she wasn't letting on, and it made him uneasy.

"Good," Canary nodded. She set her hand on top of the pack, zipping it off. "I think that's it. All set?"

"I believe so," Kaldur agreed, kneeling to tuck the pack into his own bag and shouldering the whole thing. "Thank you for your help. I will return before training begins tomorrow."

"Take the time you need to take," said Canary, shaking her head. "There's a week's worth of healing accelerant in there, and as I said, if I know Roy at all, he's not going to take it if someone isn't there to make him. I'm officially excusing you from all team activities for a week – if anything important comes up, we'll contact you. And of course, if at any point he drives you crazy and you need to get away, you're welcome back here."

"Understood," said Kaldur gratefully. It would give him peace of mind to keep an eye on his friend for a while. Then he hesitated a moment, remembering something. "Roy…has indicated that he would prefer Green Arrow to remain unaware about recent events."

Canary raised an eyebrow.

"Kaldur…" she began. "Ollie is going to find about this one way or another. I hope you realize that."

Kaldur frowned. Canary paused, then relented, giving him a small smile.

"Trust me, he'll know. But it won't be from me," she assured him.

"You have my thanks."

As he stepped into the transporter and the lights began to glow around him, ready to transport him to Star City, Canary called out,

"Your assignment still stands, Aqualad!"

He didn't have time to respond before he felt the familiar pull of the zeta-radiation and found the Cave dissolving before his eyes, replaced by the shadows of the Star City transit tunnel into which he'd been transported. With a sigh, Kaldur shouldered his pack and headed for the maintenance staircase.

It was brisk outside as he walked along the sidewalk, and threatening to rain, but he had one stop to make before his final destination. Roy was not going to recover with a fridge that contained more beer than anything else. So it was with a pack full of medical supplies on his back and an overflowing armful of groceries that Kaldur approached his friend's flat in the growing dark, nudging the doorbell with his elbow as he stood there in the nascent drizzle.

No one answered.

Frowning, Kaldur tried the doorbell again, trying to cover the open top of one of the grocery bags with his head to keep it dry. Nobody liked soggy bread.

When there was still no answer after a good minute, Kaldur bent down to set one of the grocery bags onto the doormat so he could reach up to activate his comm.

"Roy?" he spoke, glancing around – this would probably look pretty strange to passers-by.

Still nothing. Kaldur felt a twinge of worry.

"Roy, if you do not respond, I am going to have to assume you are unconscious and take appropriate action," he warned.

He paused a minute to give his friend a chance to respond, then set down the rest of the groceries and took a step back with a glance around the surrounding area. Generally, breaking down doors was not the least suspicious of activities, but images of Roy cataleptic and bleeding out on the kitchen tile were already flooding Kaldur's head, and drastic action seemed not only necessary but urgent. He braced himself, ready to kick out the hinges.

"You could, you know, try the handle first."

Kaldur turned to see Roy standing behind him, the white of his bandages peeking out beneath the collar of a loose black shirt and his skin glistening a little in the light rain.

"You did not answer your comm," said Kaldur defensively as Roy brushed past him to open the (unlocked) door. "I was worried."

"I can't step out for a cigarette without being presumed dead?"

Frowning, Kaldur picked up the bags and followed the archer inside, nudging the door shut with his foot behind him as he went. As Kaldur kicked off his shoes, Roy turned around and seemed to notice the grocery bags, and a frown darkened his face.

"I don't want your charity," he said.

"It is not charity."

"Yeah? What is it, then?"

Kaldur sighed impatiently and moved past his friend into the kitchen area, setting the bags down on the open countertop.

"It is help," he told Roy as he began to unpack them. "And if you are too proud to accept help from a friend, then you…then you are a fool."

It was a weak comeback, but he was sleep-deprived and hungry and in no mood to deal with Roy's stupid pride. Fortunately, the archer seemed similarly tired, and relented after a moment, silently stepping over to help Kaldur put things away with his one good arm.

"I thought I told you to go home," he muttered after a moment, opening a drawer so Kaldur could slide a few packs of spaghetti into it.

"I thought I told you to keep your comm on," Kaldur shot back.

Roy chuckled, reaching past Kaldur to open a cupboard above both their heads.

"Still sassy, I see," he remarked. "Yeah, so I wasn't quite as good as my word. Thought I could do without the earpiece for five minutes to burn one, but apparently not."

"Burn one?" Kaldur asked as he lifted a bag of onions into the cupboard.

"Cigarette," said Roy, giving him a look. "Welcome to the surface world, fishsticks, it's been what, three years?"

"Two and a half," muttered Kaldur, sliding the last of the groceries into the fridge. He shut the door and turned to his friend, leaning back against the counter. "Have you eaten?"

"No. Slept all day."

"Then I am making dinner," Kaldur said, rolling up his sleeves. "Step aside."

"When did you become my mother?"

"When did you become a petulant child?"

"Okay, okay, fine," said Roy, backing off. "Can I help, at least?"

"You can redress your wound, if you are able," Kaldur said, nodding towards the pack he'd dropped on the kitchen table as he filled a pot with water. "There should be supplies in the upper compartment."

Roy nodded, moving towards it, and Kaldur focused on dinner. His own stomach was rumbling powerfully – he hadn't eaten since the previous evening – and as he set about preparing rice, he found himself eagerly anticipating sitting down to an actual meal.

From behind him in the kitchen, Kaldur heard the zipper of the bag, heard Roy rummaging through it and setting things out onto the table. He was prepared to let the archer handle the whole process when halfway through chopping an onion, he heard his friend utter a curse and grunt in frustration, and turned around to see him struggling to remove his shirt with only one functional arm, caught with it half-on and half-off.

With a sigh, Kaldur set down the knife and walked over to help pull the garment over his friend's head, eyeing the bandages beneath as he did. They were only minimally stained – it seemed the wound was closing up. With a nod of approval, Kaldur hung the shirt on the edge of the chair and went back to cooking without a word.

"This is League-grade stuff," Roy accused from behind him, sounding suspicious. "Where did you get this?"

"The Cave," said Kaldur. He brushed the onions into a saucepan and enjoyed the sizzling sound as they met hot oil, then moved to chop up the rest of the vegetables.

Roy grunted, then hissed slightly in pain.

"Do you need help?" asked Kaldur, not taking his eyes off his work.

"No."

Kaldur let his friend enjoy that delusion for a few minutes as he diced up a generous amount of meat, added fresh oil to the saucepan, and began cooking it in with the rest of the vegetables – the apartment was filled with the smell, and his stomach rumbled yet louder.

Finally, as Kaldur lifted the lid of the rice pot to check on its progress, Roy spoke again.

"Okay fine. Maybe I could use a little help."

Patient as ever, Kaldur washed his hands of the meat and the oil, turned the heat down, and returned to Roy's side, where the archer was struggling to rewrap his injury – it was too awkward a task to manage with his left hand alone. Silently, Kaldur took the bandage roll out of his friend's hands and began winding the cloth around his inflamed shoulder, noting that the swelling had lessened slightly since that morning.

"Thanks," Roy muttered.

"Does it hurt much?" asked Kaldur, sealing off the wrap with an adhesive patch and stepping back.

"No."

Kaldur raised an eyebrow at the obvious lie but turned away and returned to the stove, pushing the simmering contents of the saucepan around with a wooden spoon as Roy moved to put away the remaining medical supplies in the bathroom. Briefly, Kaldur realized he still needed to convince him to take the accelerant, a special compound the League's non-metas had perfected to boost the human body's natural healing processes, and remembered Canary's warning. But before he could consider how to broach the subject, Roy was back from the bathroom and stepping up behind him curiously, peeking over his shoulder at the stove.

"That smells like food."

"You are quite astute, my friend."

Roy rolled his eyes.

"It smells like food that's ready to be eaten _now_," he clarified, punching Kaldur lightly in the arm.

"And in a few minutes, it will be just that," said Kaldur. "So go set the table."

Roy grumbled but obeyed, and in a few minutes, the two of them were sitting down together, falling into companionable silence as they tucked in. Hot food, something Kaldur had not experienced until coming to the surface world at age 14, never got old, and Roy just seemed grateful that someone else was cooking. Finally they finished off the last of it, and Kaldur rose to clear the table.

"Sit your ass back down, Kal," Roy warned, rising from his chair. "The washing up is mine. You've done enough."

"It would be much more efficient for me to do it," Kaldur pointed out. "Given that I have two working arms and control over the water itself."

"I don't care," Roy said, pulling Kaldur's plate out of his hands and carrying it over to the sink. "Go watch the news or read a book or stand in the rain or something. Whatever Atlanteans do for fun. I need to feel marginally less useless or I'll go ballistic."

Kaldur sat back down and turned in his chair to watch his friend filling the sink with soapy water.

"Technically speaking, as an archer, you have already 'gone ballistic,'" he remarked.

"If I could lift my right hand, Kaldur, I would bitchslap your smug little face right about now."

Kaldur chuckled, then yawned.

"You must forgive me," he said, leaning back in his chair. "I have not had enough sleep."

"Go home," said Roy as he slid the saucepan into the hot water and began scrubbing at it with a sponge.

"My friend, you cannot so much as remove your shirt without help," Kaldur replied flatly. "I am staying the night, and every night until you have demonstrated that you can – and will – take care of yourself."

"Kaldur…" Roy said, not turning around. "Don't do that. You have a life. A job. A team. I'll figure out how to get around on my own. This isn't your responsibility. _I'm _not your responsibility."

Kaldur frowned.

"Of course you are not," he said. "I am not here because I am obligated, Roy. I am here because I am concerned for you and for your safety, because you are my friend. I would hope you know that I am yours too."

_Not to mention this is the most time we have had together in months._

Roy paused at the sink, letting the forks slide back into the soapy water.

"I know," he muttered at last, turning to look at Kaldur. "I know. I just…I know I've been out of touch lately, and I know I've been a shitty friend to you, and to Robin and Wally too, and it's awkward to have you randomly show up and see me screw up like I did last night, and then even more awkward because now you've come swooping in to fix all the shit in my life, my trashed apartment and my empty refrigerator and my busted up shoulder, and you know how much I hate accepting help, even when I know I need it. I _hate _it, Kal, and I especially hate accepting help from you, because God knows you of all people deserve a better friend than me."

Kaldur was silent a moment.

"I mind much less than you would think," he said quietly.

Roy sighed, turning back to the sink and resuming the dishes.

"I don't get you," he sighed. "It's like nobody ever taught you how to be selfish."

Kaldur bit back a cryptic smile.

"Perhaps I am being selfish in my own way."

Turning his head to give Kaldur a questioning look, Roy pulled a dish towel from the hook by the sink and started drying off the dishes.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"That is a story I will tell you later," said Kaldur. "But you owe me one first. And there is something you must do."

He stood up and fetched the med pack once more, withdrawing the case that contained the accelerant injections and setting it out on the kitchen table.

"What's that?"

"It will speed your healing," Kaldur explained, undoing the clasps and opening the lid to reveal the syringes inside. "It is – "

"Pass," Roy said flatly, cutting him off as he caught sight of the case's contents. "I'll take my chances and mend on my own time, thanks."

"An injury like yours will take months to heal; years to heal fully," Kaldur argued. "The compound has been tried and tested. With its help, you could be back on patrol within two weeks."

"I know what it is," said Roy. "The answer is still no."

"You are being unreasonable," Kaldur accused.

"I'm aware."

"Then what is your objection?"

"I don't do needles."

Kaldur blinked, taken aback. Roy Harper chased down supervillains, jumped off skyscrapers before his zip line was secured, engaged in dangerous international diplomacy without backup. Yet he 'didn't do needles?'

"My friend, you pulled a bullet out of your own shoulder last night," he pointed out, mystified by this logic. "Surely a simple injection cannot…"

"Remember that can of worms I told you you didn't want to open?" Roy interrupted. "This is it."

"I do. I also recall you promising to open that particular can of worms at a better time. Let us say that time is now."

Roy scowled.

"I don't want to talk about this."

"Clearly," said Kaldur, hands on his hips. "But something that distracts you on missions and prevents you from taking proper care of yourself is too dangerous to ignore."

"Everyone has secrets."

"Not secrets that get them shot."

Roy shook his head slowly, leaning back against the kitchen counter with a deep frown on his face. But before he could protest further, Kaldur spoke again.

"For the sake of the people you have sworn to defend, you need to confront whatever this is, my friend," he pressed. "You help no one, least of all yourself, by keeping it a secret."

Roy lifted his head, looking up over at the far wall and away from Kaldur, expression unreadable. For a long moment he was silent, seemingly lost in thought, then at last, he looked back over, shoulders slumping in resignation.

"Fine," he muttered. "Let's get this over with."

Kaldur nodded, withdrawing the first syringe from the case and clicking the injection cartridge into place.

"If it would be more comfortable, you could sit down," he suggested.

Roy complied without a word, sliding onto the kitchen chair and watching the syringe warily. Kaldur moved in front of him, lowering himself to one knee on the tile and holding out his hand to his friend; after a moment's hesitation, Roy lifted his injured arm into his lap and turned it palm-up, looking away.

As he took Roy's wrist in his free hand, Kaldur could feel his friend's pulse racing, contradicting the cold composure of his face.

Then as he looked back down, for the first time, Kaldur noticed a series of small marks in the crook of Roy's arm, marks unlike the other scars on his arms, not bowstring nicks or healed-up cuts, just tiny, faded scores marring the pale skin – old and healed, but unmistakable. He looked up at the archer, unable to conceal the surprise in his own expression, but Roy was still looking determinedly away, jaw tight.

The pieces began to fall into place.

Lifting the syringe, Kaldur found a vein in his friend's arm and pressed the tip of the needle against it, thumb on the plunger.

"Talk to me," Roy said suddenly, his voice strained. Kaldur looked up at him, frowning in uncertainty.

"And say what?"

"I don't care, just talk to me," Roy replied, closing his eyes. "Tell me about Atlantis or the team or your parents or something. Just distract me."

And Kaldur obeyed, latching onto the first topic he could think of, which turned out to be Orin and Mera's heir-to-be. Why that was the first thing to come to his mind, he wasn't at all sure, but somewhere between conveying his own happiness at the news and explaining that he would be taking time off to attend the ceremonies following the child's birth, he managed to slip the needle into Roy's arm and deliver the injection without incident, then finished his story a good minute or so after the whole ordeal was over.

As he trailed off, Roy opened his eyes and leaned back in the chair, the tension draining from his posture as he let out a long breath.

"Are you all right?" Kaldur asked, setting the empty syringe aside and covering his friend's hand with his own.

Roy offered him a weak smile.

"Anyone ever told you you have a really soothing voice?" he asked, his tone only half-teasing.

Embarrassed, Kaldur quickly let go of Roy's hand and stood up, looking about the kitchen for something else to talk about.

"All right, well," Roy said after a tense moment, standing as Kaldur moved to throw away the empty vial in the trash under the sink. "I'm going to go watch the news and quietly hate myself about all the shit I'm not preventing in the city tonight, if that's cool with you."

Kaldur nodded distractedly as Roy wandered into the living room, shutting the injection case and placing it on the empty kitchen counter. His mind was suddenly rather cluttered as he processed what he had seen. How had he never noticed those marks before? Roy's costume, even his old costume, had left his arms bare; he hadn't been trying to conceal it, clearly, but somehow Kaldur had never looked closely enough to realize what the marks meant. And he _did _know what they meant. While he was still no expert on land culture, he had seen enough crime to recognize the scars for what they were, which left him to wonder _how_ and _how long ago _and most importantly, _why?_

No answers were forthcoming. Flicking off the kitchen light, Kaldur did his best to push the issue from his mind and followed Roy into the living room, where the TV alone lit the small space with its flickering glow. The archer looked over as Kaldur moved to take a seat next to him but said nothing.

For a long while, the two watched in silence, listening to the newscaster's description of Green Arrow's latest heroic intervention as images of the scene flashed across the screen. As the third commercial break began, though, Kaldur let his eyes trail slowly over to his friend, who ignored it for a moment until he reached for the remote and struck the mute button.

Silence fell thickly over the room.

"I was sixteen," Roy said finally, his tone flat. "I was bored and stupid and it was a rush."

"The danger of your work was not enough?" asked Kaldur, looking over at his friend.

"Ollie wouldn't take me with him on every job," said Roy. "Some of them, he said I was too young, too inexperienced, that it was too dangerous. I was pissed. When he'd leave me behind…I would shoot up. It was easy enough to get the stuff. I had all the right connections."

Kaldur was silent a moment, processing this.

"How did you hide it from him?" he asked at last.

"He was a busy guy," said Roy, eyes on the TV, and Kaldur could hear the carefully buried bitterness in the archer's tone. "He trusted I'd be a good boy while he was gone. It wasn't hard to hide something from someone who wasn't looking for it in the first place."

"But he found out," Kaldur checked. Roy nodded. "What happened?"

"He threw me out," Roy shrugged. "For a little while, at least. Dinah took me in for a bit, talked me into getting help, stayed with me through the worst of the withdrawals. Eventually he took me back but…it was never really the same deal after that."

That explained Canary's reluctance to dispense the painkillers. Kaldur stared at the TV, imagining that time in Roy's life, trying to understand.

"I knew you when you were sixteen," he said softly. It was true – it had been his first year as Aqualad. They had met only a few days after he'd first left Atlantis. "You never said anything. Why?"

Roy laughed hollowly, casting a glance over.

"You were fresh out of the pond, Kal," he reminded him. "You were still learning English and dealing with surfaceside culture shock and thinking the League could do no wrong. I wasn't about to complicate your life with that kind of shit. I barely knew you."

Kaldur frowned unhappily.

"I would have listened," he murmured.

To his surprise, Roy reached over and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"I know you would have," he said, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "But I couldn't have known that then. And you were just so…_good_. It would have been unfair to drag you into all that. Christ, It's unfair to drag you into it now. You don't deserve this shit, Kal. I wish…I wish you hadn't found out about all this."

As Roy's hand fell from his shoulder, Kaldur looked over at his friend, his face half-lit by the flickering TV light.

"I wish no such thing," he said quietly.

Roy gave him a questioning look.

"You take on too much of your life alone," Kaldur continued, his brow furrowing. "Even more than I had previously thought. And it is a poor friend indeed who fails to help you bear a burden so heavy as this one. If I wish anything, I wish you had told me of it sooner, so that I could have been a better friend to you. Perhaps we could even have averted this."

He gestured to the archer's bandaged shoulder.

There was a long, long silence, punctuated only by the gentle thrum of the rain on the pavement outside.

Finally, _finally, _Roy sighed.

"Look. It's…it's been a really long day," he said. "Can we talk about this later?"

Kaldur nodded.

"I have been granted a week's respite from the team."

"A week?" Roy muttered. "Jesus, I'm going to have to buy some DVDs or something. I'm not prepared to have heart-to-hearts all day long. I don't think I have that much of a heart left in me."

Kaldur laughed quietly as the archer rose from the couch and turned towards the bathroom.

"Do you need help with anything?" he asked.

"Nah," Roy said, shaking his head. "I can handle it. You planning on sleeping out here or can I talk you into taking the bed?"

"Out here is fine," Kaldur assured him, trying not to wonder if Roy had been inviting him to displace or to join – it seemed unendingly awkward to ask. "You need your rest to recover."

"Ordinarily I'd arm-wrestle you on that and try not to be a shitty host, but given the circumstances, you win," said Roy. "Good night, Kaldur. Let me know if you need anything."

"I cleaned your entire apartment yesterday. I know where everything is."

"Right," Roy grimaced. "Yeah, I'd been trying to forget about that. Well let me grab you a blanket at least. I know you know where it is. I don't care. Go brush your teeth or something."

And thus five minutes later, Kaldur was turning off the TV and slipping under the fleece blanket Roy had left for him, closing his eyes and submitting to the darkness. His mind was still spinning over all the events of the past 24 hours, but his exhaustion was heavy enough to slow it all down, and soon enough, he found himself falling asleep to the gentle patter of the rain outside and the reassuring creak of bedsprings from the room next door.


	5. Five

Sunlight was streaming through the cracks in the blinds when Kaldur woke to a sudden pressure on his stomach, a pressure that made him lurch up in surprise and lash out blindly with an alarmed shout.

"Calm the hell down, it's just me," said Roy, knocking Kaldur's blow aside before it could strike him. Kaldur flushed as he realized it was Roy's knee that had awoken him – the archer was pinning him to the couch.

"Wh-what are you doing?" he asked, flustered, leaving off the _and why aren't you wearing pants? _that had followed in his head. Roy was obviously wearing what he'd slept in, which was just his boxers, and while this was not at all an undesirable sight, it was very distracting.

"I'm about to make breakfast," Roy announced. Kaldur opened his mouth to protest, and the archer promptly covered it with his good hand, muffling him. "You're about to say that I shouldn't operate the stove with one arm, and try and talk me into letting you cook instead, to which I'm about to respond that your little logic games won't work, and also that that freaky League medicine is working and I have one and a half arms now. So shut up and let me do something for you for a change."

He took his hand off Kaldur's mouth, leaving the Atlantean staring up at him in bewilderment.

"Sound reasonable?" asked Roy.

"Not particularly," Kaldur frowned. "But it would seem I have little choice in the matter."

"True enough," Roy agreed, glancing down at the knee he had pressed into Kaldur's chest. "Though, let's be real for a second here. We both know that you could throw me off you whenever you felt like it – you're stronger than I am. I think the real issue here is that you don't want to…"

For a brief second, Kaldur felt the blood stop in his veins as Roy smirked down at him.

"…because you don't want to risk hurting me."

With a panicked, internal sigh of relief (_why was he relieved? he had to tell him eventually anyway_), Kaldur gave Roy what he hoped was a dirty look and let his head drop back down to the pillow.

"Thought so," said Roy, and retracted his knee, bending down to adjust the blankets around his friend. "Now go back to sleep. I'll wake you up when food's ready. You drink coffee?"

Kaldur shook his head, eyes already slipping half shut. He was still tired.

As he drifted off, he heard Roy mutter as he walked away,

"Good, because I usually drink the whole pot."

* * *

><p>True to his word, Roy woke him a little while later with a plate of eggs and bacon and only slightly-mangled French toast. They ate in the living room to the morning news, Kaldur torn between watching the television and watching Roy prove that he did, in fact, drink the whole pot, right <em>out <em>of the pot, in less time than it took to get through the morning report to the weather, and then the inevitable battle for the dishes began.

Kaldur won. As he was drying off the last plate in the kitchen, Roy wandered back in, now with pants on, though he remained bare from the waist up save for the bandages.

"Not to shamelessly exploit your generosity, but would you mind getting the paper?" he asked, stepping in beside Kaldur to put away the clean dishes in their appropriate cupboards. "I don't think my neighbors need to see me like this, and it's more effort than it's worth to put on a shirt right now."

Nodding, Kaldur moved to the entryway to slip his shoes on, and let himself out into the damp city morning. The paper was soggy but serviceable, sitting out at the end of the walkway, and he scanned the headlines as he picked it up and turned to go back inside. But just as he walked up the steps to the door, he happened to look up from the paper, and found himself face-to-face with a sight that made his blood run cold.

Spray-painted across Roy's door were four words, a crimson red scrawl on the neat grey paint:

_I KNOW YOUR SECRET._

"Roy," he called inside, careful to keep his voice calm, and not too loud. "Come here. There is something you should see."

After a second, the door swung open and Roy's head popped out.

"Uh, I'm not totally decent at the moment…"

"I would not ask you if it were not important," said Kaldur. "Come here."

Roy obeyed, stepping barefoot and shirtless out into the chill of the morning, and Kaldur shut the door behind him. Then the archer turned to follow his gaze, and reacted only with a long, slow intake of breath, his eyes running over the letters several times before he finally tore his gaze away and looked at Kaldur instead.

"Right," he said, his voice level, betraying nothing. "It's cold out here. Let's go inside."

Kaldur nodded and the two slipped indoors, the newspaper discarded and forgotten on the kitchen table.

"Bathroom," said Roy curtly. Kaldur followed him there, the only room in the apartment without a window to the outside – it would be impossible to overhear a conversation there – and shut the door. Immediately, Kaldur opened his mouth to speak, but Roy lifted a hand, cutting him off.

"It could be random."

"If you believed it were, we would not be having this conversation in here."

"It's the kind of thing any stupid kid could have written. Everyone's got secrets."

"Not secrets like yours, my friend," said Kaldur. "You must get away from this place at once, to the Cave, perhaps. You will be safe there."

"No," said Roy flatly. "I'm not going anywhere."

"I did not pull you out of that harbor and drag you home half-dead so that you could let your thoughtless pride endanger you a second time," said Kaldur, beginning to sound irritable.

"It's not pride, Kal," Roy said, leaning against the counter; for once, he was the calmer of the two of them. "It's reason. There's several possibilities here. We don't know who this is, or even what secret they're talking about. It's not like I've only got one."

"If your identity has been compromised…"

"Maybe it hasn't," Roy pointed out. "Maybe whoever wrote that just overheard our conversation last night, and all they know is...is what I used to do. And even if it _is_ compromised, what am I going to do? It's not enough to change my address, my face, my name. If they know who I really am, they know who…who someone else really is, too, and we've got bigger problems on our hands."

Kaldur was silent, watching Roy's face. He hadn't thought of that, but it was true. Roy had been Ollie's ward for several years; he had first taken him in when he'd been a high-profile businessman and socialite in Star City, back before he'd lost his fortune. Anyone who connected the dots from Red Arrow to Roy Harper would inevitably connect the dots from Green Arrow to Oliver Queen as well. And that could have disastrous implications.

"What purpose does it serve, staying in danger here?" he asked finally, folding his arms over his chest and leaning back against the door.

Roy sighed, scratching at the bandaging on his chest as he thought about that.

"That message…if it means anything…is the opening move in some kind of game," he began, speaking slowly. "If whoever wrote it really knew everything there is to know, and really wanted to do some damage, he would have published the information he had. He would have gone public with it. Obviously he hasn't, or there would be news crews on my doorstep right now, so either it's a prank, or our graffiti artist isn't sure he's right, or…he wants something from me."

"Blackmail," Kaldur summed up, his frown deepening.

Roy nodded.

"That's my best guess," he said. "But if it's a prank, there's no point in running. And if it's blackmail, running isn't an option. As much bad blood as there is between me and Ollie, we still play for the same team. I can't betray him. I'll just have to play the game."

"Then I will play it with you," Kaldur said quietly.

"I'm not dragging you into this," said Roy.

"You are not," agreed Kaldur. "I am involving myself voluntarily."

"I can take care of myself."

"Not at the moment, my friend."

"Kaldur, I've had enough people try to be my father and it never ends well. I'd really rather _not_ add you to that list."

"I am not trying to be your father, I am trying to – "

"Look, it's pointless to argue about this right now anyway," Roy said, cutting him off. "We don't even know what this guy wants. All we can do right now is go on with life and wait for him to make the next move - he obviously has my number. Let's argue about this when we actually have something concrete to argue about, okay?"

With a sigh, Kaldur relented, nodding and straightening out. The tension between them was making him uncomfortable, anyway.

"How is your injury progressing?" he asked, trying to change the subject.

"Well, it's – " Roy began, when he was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell.

The two of them froze, locking eyes. Then Roy lifted a finger to his lips and brushed past Kaldur, slipping out of the bathroom without a word. Kaldur's mind briefly flipped through all the reasons Roy shouldn't be the one answering the door, particularly not with his entire bandaged shoulder exposed, but Roy was already gone, the point moot, so he pressed himself to the bathroom wall and listened, ready to intervene at a moment's notice.

He heard the handle turn, heard the hinges squeak ever-so-slightly as Roy cracked the door. Then he heard his friend curse quietly, but it wasn't an alarmed-sounding curse, just an angry one, and a new voice spoke.

"What the hell happened to your door?"

Kaldur knew that voice – deeper than Roy's, but still quite familiar. Ollie.

"You shouldn't be here," Roy hissed.

"And your shoulder, too? Jesus, Roy. Open the door, I'm coming in."

"No, you're not," Roy tried to argue, but then Kaldur heard him let out a quiet grunt of pain as Ollie (presumably) forced his way inside. The door slammed, and at that point Kaldur decided that eavesdropping was both unnecessary and rude, and emerged from the bathroom to the sight of Roy clutching his shoulder even as he fended off a heavily-disguised Ollie, who was trying to get close enough to examine it. Both men looked up as he entered, and quickly dropped away from each other like two children caught horseplaying by a parent.

"Kaldur'ahm," Ollie greeted with an awkward but sincere smile, removing his sunglasses and extending his hand. "Er…what…what are you doing here?"

Kaldur shook it, trying to ignore the daggers Roy was glaring through his ex-mentor's head as he did so.

"I am…visiting," he answered with a glance at Roy. He wasn't sure of the correct answer to that question. Roy wasn't likely to take well to him saying he was there to take care of him, and he certainly wasn't about to tell Ollie that he was waiting for a socially appropriate chance to confess his undying love, and anything else was a bit too far from the truth for a habitually honest Atlantean.

"Right," Ollie said, seeming confused. "I'm uh…I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"No," Kaldur reassured him, at the same time that Roy delivered an emphatic "Yes." He glanced at his friend uncertainly.

Ollie looked between them, then seemed to decide to take Kaldur's word over his former sidekick's. He bent down to pick up a long package that had apparently fallen to the ground in the entryway struggle, and opened it at the top.

"Here," he said, reaching in to pull up and reveal the contents – it was Roy's bow, unstrung, but in one piece. He let the weapon slide back in and handed the box over, folding his arms over his chest. "The police were holding onto it. They said you dropped it. They also said you got yourself shot at a heroin bust. You wanna talk about that?"

"No," Roy said bluntly, leaning the package against the kitchen counter.

Ollie turned to Kaldur.

"I bet you do," he said. "The cops said you were there, too. What happened?"

"Don't bring him into this," Roy snapped, taking a step forward.

"Clearly, you already have," Ollie replied, arching an eyebrow.

Roy glowered.

"It's none of your damn business."

"Come now, Roy, be reasonable," said Ollie. "Someone's got to look after y - "

"Someone _is_," Roy interrupted, gesturing to Kaldur, who was still standing awkwardly between the two of them. "So thanks for running interference with the cops, but the situation's under control. You can feel free to leave now."

Ollie frowned, and Kaldur could see the concern etched in his face, the helplessness as he looked at his former ward. He cared – yet it was clear he did not know how to make Roy believe it.

"What happened to your door?" Ollie asked after a moment's silence, his voice a little more subdued.

Roy sighed in exasperation.

"Someone decided it needed repainting," he said.

"You don't know who?"

"I don't actually stay awake at night and sit at my front window, waiting to see who's going to come up my steps," Roy said, rolling his eyes. "No, I don't know who."

"Then you probably don't know what they're getting at, either."

"Right again."

Ollie shoved his hands into the pockets of his oversized sweatshirt.

"You shouldn't stay here," he muttered, but it was quiet, like he had already given up hope of being taken seriously. "It's not safe."

"I know," said Roy.

"You're going to stay anyway, aren't you?"

"That was the plan, yeah."

Ollie let out a deep breath, clearly not satisfied with this. He looked to Kaldur, as if asking for help, but Kaldur didn't know what to say, and could only give him a tiny, apologetic shrug of his shoulders.

"Just promise me you'll ask for help before you do anything stupid?" Ollie asked finally, turning to go. "If not from me, from…from someone else in the League."

Kaldur had not taken offense, but Ollie turned to address him, continuing:

"Not that I don't trust you, Kaldur, just that if anything happened to you in all this, Orin would have my head. And it doesn't hurt to bust out the big guns for safety's sake, once in a while."

"I'll work it out," said Roy impatiently. "I'm not a kid anymore. I can solve my problems myself."

Ollie opened his mouth as if to say something, then shut it and shook his head, turning to go.

"Take care," he said, pausing in the doorway. His eyes hovered over both boys for a moment, then he was gone.

Roy sank down on one of the kitchen chairs the second the door clicked shut, running a hand through his hair and letting out a long, aggravated sigh.

"He means well," said Kaldur softly.

"I know."

Roy reached for his bow, withdrawing it from the box Ollie had put it in and leaning it up against the table. He slid a hand down it, brow creasing as he ran his fingers across the notched wood, the metal reinforcements, the little dips and swells and intricacies of his weapon. The longer he stared at it, the deeper his frown grew.

"You will heal soon enough, my friend," said Kaldur, stepping up behind Roy's chair to place a gentle hand on his uninjured shoulder.

"It shouldn't have happened in the first place," said Roy, tightening his grip on his bow.

"No," Kaldur agreed. "But what is done is done. You do yourself no favors by agonizing over what is past."

Roy laughed hollowly.

"I do myself no favors, generally speaking," he remarked.

"I suppose not," Kaldur conceded.

A moment of silence passed. Then to Kaldur's surprise, Roy sighed and leaned back in his chair, letting his head rest lightly against the Atlantean's chest.

"You know, I had been meaning to spend more time with you," he commented, setting his bow down on the table. "I've been…out of touch, lately, and…it wasn't how I had wanted things to be when I walked out. I know we don't really play the same gigs anymore, but I'd hoped we'd still…well…you know, still be friends, despite the solo act and all that."

"Roy," said Kaldur, frowning, "I am still your friend."

"I know you are," Roy said. "I just mean, I'd hoped to spend time with you as a friend, not as a burden."

"You are not a burden."

Roy rolled his eyes and tilted his chin up to give Kaldur a rare smile.

"I'm going to assume you just don't understand the definition of that word, because I'm definitely a burden right now, in a very inarguable, objective sense."

"Well, you do not burden me," Kaldur reworded.

"I think we had this conversation already."

"I think we did."

"I think it ended with you promising me a story," said Roy, narrowing his eyes.

"I promised you nothing," Kaldur deflected.

Roy twisted in his chair, looking up at Kaldur suspiciously, poised to lunge.

"In time, my friend," said Kaldur – he didn't want Roy to hurt himself trying to force answers out of him. "You have more important things to consider right now."

"Yeah, but I'd really rather not think about them," Roy pointed out.

Kaldur laughed and shook his head.

"True as that may be, I will hold my tongue until a better time."

_A time when I can afford to avoid you until you have had time to forgive me._

"Fine," Roy grumbled, standing up and stretching; his back cracked. "Ow. Okay. I'm going to go fletch for a little while. You need anything?"

Kaldur shook his head, and Roy drifted off towards the bedroom. It seemed there was nothing to do but wait, for now.

* * *

><p>Waiting came to an end just after dinner, when Kaldur went to take out the trash. He was carrying the bag out to the dumpster in the alley next to Roy's apartment complex when he spotted it – a new note, the red paint still drying on the alley wall. He looked around quickly to see if the author was still around, but there wasn't a soul in sight.<p>

_10 PM. ST. MARGARET'S SUBLEVEL. DON'T BE LATE._

Roy just nodded when Kaldur passed the message on, rising and grabbing his bow.

"My friend, you can barely lift your arm, much less fire your weapon," Kaldur pointed out, then dropped his voice low. "And furthermore, whoever is seeking you has targeted your civilian address. It is possible they do not know both your identities. If that is the case, it would be best for you to go as yourself."

"St. Margaret's is the old hospital we were in the other night," Roy replied. "I doubt that's a coincidence."

"Even so," said Kaldur. "Given what you have told me about your past, you could have any number of enemies, with any amount of information about you. And in any case, with your injury, there is no advantage to assuming your superhero identity."

Roy sighed.

"Fine," he relented. "Civvies it is."

"We have three hours," said Kaldur with a glance at the clock. "It would be foolish for you to go alone."

"I know," Roy muttered, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "I know. I'll…I'll call Ollie."

Kaldur looked over at his friend in surprise.

"I know I'm not going to talk you out of coming," Roy explained. "And it's one thing for me to walk into something like this without backup, but it's another for me to put your life on the line, too. Hand me my phone."

Kaldur obeyed, and to his disbelief, Roy made the call.

In the next few hours, the two of them prepared. Once again, Kaldur talked Roy through the accelerant injection to distract him from the feeling of the needle as he slid it deep into his arm, then he re-treated his wound and wrapped it in fresh bandages. Each took the next hour or so to himself, Roy settling in to watch the evening news, Kaldur reading from one of his sorcery textbooks in the kitchen. At a quarter past nine, Roy managed to put on a shirt and a coat with some combination of sheer will and Kaldur's assistance, then they readied themselves to go.

Nine thirty saw the two of them leaving Roy's apartment, Kaldur with his civilian jacket zipped up over his uniform and his waterbearers concealed up the sleeves. It was cold and damp outside, the fog already settling into the city, but the two set off into the night without a word, their minds on more important things than the weather.

Several blocks down and partway into a shallow alley, Roy crouched down beside a manhole and knocked while Kaldur scanned the surroundings for observers. There were none, and after a moment, the manhole cover slid aside, pushed up from within, and they both hopped down into it without a word. Below were Green Arrow and Black Canary.

"Brought a little backup of my own," said Ollie. "I hope you don't mind."

Roy glanced at Dinah and simply nodded. Kaldur finished resetting the cover and joined them a second later, at which point Canary winked at him – or at least, in the low light, she seemed to.

"Obviously, we can't be seen coming in with you," she said to Roy. "But we'll be around. Keep your comm on, keep your wits about you, and between the four of us we'll figure out who's messing with you."

"Right," Roy nodded. He turned to face down the tunnel, away from the rest of them. "Let's get this over with, then."

"One second, Roy," said Ollie, and withdrew something from his tunic and holding it out to his former protégé. "Take this."

As Kaldur's eyes adjusted to the dark of the tunnel he realized Ollie was holding out a handgun. Roy turned back to look, eyes narrowing.

"No thanks," he said. "Not my style."

"Guns are bows for people with one arm," said Ollie flatly. "Just take the damn thing, Roy."

Roy muttered something under his breath, but he reached out and took the gun anyway, slipping it into the inside breast pocket of his coat.

"Fine."

"Let's move," Canary nodded. "Time is tight. Kaldur, come with us. Roy…we'll see you there. Be careful."

Kaldur touched his friend's arm gently as he moved past him, their eyes meeting for a brief moment there in the dark of the tunnel. For a split second, he found himself seized by the urge to tell him everything, to confess right there and then – a strange premonition had washed over him, a powerful and prescient sense that something awful was about to happen, and as much he feared coming clean about his feelings, the thought of never having the chance was much worse. But then the moment was gone, and he slipped away into the darkness on the heels of Green Arrow and Black Canary, the opportunity lost.

_It is nothing, _he told himself. _You are being unreasonable._

They staggered their entrances into the hospital, Canary preceding him by a few minutes with Green Arrow following a few later. The two experienced heroes had already scoped out the building earlier, as well as the room clearly intended as the meeting spot – it was an old storeroom, ringed on three sides by scaffolding. They were to enter by a delivery route, which provided much more direct access than going through the hospital itself would, and position themselves in the storeroom, Kaldur and Green Arrow in the scaffolding to the south and east, respectively, and Canary on the floor to the north, where a broken forklift would provide her adequate cover. From these positions, they would observe the meeting and intervene if necessary.

Kaldur reached his position at ten minutes to ten, slipping his waterbearers out of his sleeves and pressing himself against the wall. The room was vast and pitch black; he couldn't see the floor or even where the scaffolding ended, but a railing prevented him from falling, and a tall stack of crates shielded him from view in any case. Canary was to be their real eyes for the meeting.

In the darkness, time stretched awfully. Kaldur had faced much more difficult and dangerous missions before, but never had he deliberately walked into an enemy's lair, much less with a teammate critically injured. If things came to fighting, Roy was beyond vulnerable. And while it was a comfort that the two heroes who had come to his friend's aid were people who truly cared for him, practically his parents, Kaldur couldn't shake the feeling that a split second's misfortune could leave someone dead.

Just when he was certain that ten o'clock had come and gone, Kaldur heard the door from the hospital side below open. In the faint light that slanted in, he could make out Roy's silhouette; the archer stepped into the room, casting a disinterested glance around before he pulled the door shut behind him.

The second the door clicked shut, a dim light flickered on on the ground level, illuminating a desk at which a slim figure sat.

"You're a minute early," she spoke, in a voice that was somehow familiar, though Kaldur could not place it. He leaned forward, watching intently. "Timeliness is a rare virtue these days. I do appreciate it."

"I remember you," Roy frowned, his brow creasing as he stepped up, closer to the light.

"Of course you do," said the woman. "It's unfortunate for you that you didn't the other night, of course. I couldn't believe my luck when you didn't."

Roy was silent, glaring daggers through her. Kaldur tightened his grip on his waterbearers as she continued.

"I like the new uniform, by the way. Very stylish. Could probably use a bit more Kevlar, though. How's the arm?"

"Cut to the chase," Roy snapped. "What do you want from me?"

"Oh, many things," the woman replied, tapping a finger against the desk idly. "But principally…I would like you to suffer."

Kaldur stiffened at her tone of voice when suddenly, a huge hand closed over his arm, wrenching him away from the railing and back into the darkness. He stifled his own cry, light flooding through his tattoos as he summoned an electric charge to repel his attacker, but before it could reach his hands, something thin and sharp pierced the side of his neck, dangerously close to his highly-sensitive gills. Dazed by the pain, he forgot his spell and staggered back before a powerful drowsiness took hold of him and he dropped to his knees.

In his last few moments of consciousness, he heard three things – a gunshot, the pounding of feet on the scaffolding, and the strange woman's voice:

"Perhaps my message wasn't clear enough, Mr. Harper. I know _all_ your secrets."


	6. Six

His mouth was dry.

This was his first thought when he woke up, even before he opened his eyes. His mouth was painfully dry, and the crook of his right arm ached and stung something awful. He ran his hand across it, and found a strange, raised mark, like a large insect bite; the skin was sensitive to his touch, so he left it alone and sat up, struggling to see in the pitch black.

The floor beneath him was concrete, by the feel of it, and cold, but somehow it was a welcome coldness – he felt far too warm, and somewhat light-headed. His jacket and his waterbearers had disappeared, as had his shoes. As he reached his hands out, seeking the edges of the room, a sudden wave of dizziness swept over him. With a quiet gasp, he laid back down, closing his eyes and pressing his cheek to the cool floor as he fought off the nausea that had gripped him.

Before long, he had fallen back to sleep. His body was trying to protect itself, and he let it.

* * *

><p>Light woke him, though he couldn't know how much later. Someone had opened a door, and by the sudden glow he could see his cell, for it was clear now that was what it was – scarcely wide enough for him to lie down, and with a ceiling so low he couldn't have stood up even if he'd felt capable of it, which he did not. It reminded him of a crawlspace of sorts, the kind villains were always hiding in when they knew all was lost.<p>

As he blinked into the sudden brightness, a face loomed close to his and a hand descended onto his head, the thumb pulling back his right eyelid, then his left. He struggled faintly, but his body felt _wrong, _responding far too sluggishly to his intentions.

"Yeah, he's come off it," said the owner of the hand, his voice low and gruff. "Next dose?"

"Next dose," agreed a female voice, and before Kaldur could register that it was the same one from – well, he didn't know how long it had been since that night in the storeroom – the hand on his face had grabbed him by the arm and yanked him close to the door, and a heavy weight was pressing into his chest, knocking him onto his back, pinning him to the floor. He fought back, but weakly, light randomly flickering through his tattoos as the nausea returned, but not a sound escaped his lips. He couldn't feel. He couldn't see. Something was horribly wrong with him.

A needle pierced his arm and he cried out quietly, his voice cracking as it ripped through his too-dry throat. The weight retracted from his chest, but he didn't move from the floor.

While he lay trembling, the shadows shifted over him as the woman and the man traded places, and the former crouched down before him, offering him a frosty smile.

"A pleasure to finally meet you, Kaldur'ahm," she said. "Goodness knows I've heard enough about you."

"You," he rasped, recognizing her face. "You were the undercover officer in…in the hospital."

"Yes, I suppose the badge would have given you that impression," she said. "And it was a fortunate coincidence that the real officer was also a woman. You and Harper were so quick to jump to conclusions, so I played along."

He coughed, bile rising in his throat; he forced himself to focus through it.

"What have you done with him?" he asked, trying his best to sound demanding, but his voice sounded weak even to himself.

"Nothing," the woman replied. "Don't be so simplistic. There are better ways of teaching him not to be an interfering little bastard than killing him. Perhaps not more efficient, but certainly more entertaining for me. Speaking of which, how are you feeling?"

"Fine," he lied through gritted teeth, not wanting to give her the satisfaction, but he was feeling stranger by the minute, the blood rushing a little too quickly in his ears and the uncomfortable warmness spreading through his body.

"Sure you are," his captor smiled easily. "You know, I'm sort of fascinated to see how this plays out. I've never had a non-human to play with before."

Kaldur closed his eyes as a wave of fresh nausea slammed into him and he retched.

"Well, that's the same as most people, in any case," said the woman, straightening out. "I'll leave you to enjoy that. That's good quality stuff, by the way, so I hope you appreciate the ride for however long it lasts. We'll be back."

Then the door shut and the lock clicked and the darkness returned, leaving Kaldur acutely aware of the way his skin was drying up, the way the panic was somehow easing even as he grew more and more afraid, the way his body was fading quickly into numbness.

* * *

><p>Time had disappeared. There were only the ups and the downs, the darkness and the light, the highs and the long, agonizing lows.<p>

They gave him water, sometimes, but never any food. Whether it had been a day or a week since he'd come here, he had no way of knowing, since they never let him out of that little room. After a while, he stopped being hungry anyway. It was like his body didn't have the energy to want anything but the drug, which seemed to grow more potent every time they injected him. Perhaps it was just that every dose left him craving the next that much more.

Then at some point, they didn't come. He laid there in the darkness, staring up at the pitch black of the ceiling for what seemed like an eternity as his mind drifted disjointedly. He thought of his neglected duty, the team he was supposed to be leading, the worry he must be causing Aquaman and Canary and his mother, the irresponsibility of getting himself captured like this. He thought of Atlantis and Earth and the path he was supposed to be walking, how this new development could change it, felt shame and fear and dull acceptance flow into one another in patterns far beyond his control.

And, of course, he thought of Roy. Was he safe? Was he taking care of his wound properly? Had it been his gunshot in the storeroom that night? And what had the woman meant, _all his secrets?_

After a while, Kaldur closed his eyes, which changed nothing in the darkness. The euphoria of the last injection seemed a lifetime in the past. Now there was just a profound weariness that sank into his limbs like lead, dragging him down into the depths of his darker thoughts. The longer he laid there, the more he found himself thinking of Tula's rejection, and finding it absolutely right – who would want someone like him, so cold and clumsy when it came to matters of the heart? Who could ever find his strange, half-breed form desirable? He cursed himself for harboring hope in the first place as his drug-addled mind finally comprehended the undeniable truth of his own unwantedness – _he was meant to be alone. _

And even as some lingering part of his rational self recognized that these thoughts were not really his own, it became easy to believe that he was going to die in this place, and strangely, the thought didn't even bother him. Then the door opened, and light shattered his reflections.

Instinctively, he held out his arm, squeezing his eyes shut against the brightness. But instead of an injection, he was met by a low, anguished breath and a large hand wrapping gently around his wrist.

"Kaldur'ahm, my son, what have they done to you?"

He opened his eyes once more, startled, but the light was too much. Still, he knew that voice, and as his king's arms reached into the room to gather him up, he found himself battling two very different reactions: utter relief, and bitter disappointment.


	7. Seven

Kaldur didn't know when his head had gotten this _noisy._ It was as if his memory had decided to call up all the sounds that had caught his attention in the last several months and replay them at full volume all at once, a cacophony of explosions and gunshots and music and countless voices.

_The team performed adequately. The problem was you._

_I'm still getting used to this solo act stuff, but if you need me, I'll be there._

_He's like a big brother to me._

_I cannot shift this burden to him._

_Such a waste. You really have no ambition beyond serving Aquaman?_

_You're not going to get peace of mind until this is resolved_.

_I know __**all**__ your secrets._

"Hold him still."

The last voice was different. Closer. Louder.

His eyes snapped open, and to his own surprise, he had apparently been thrashing violently in his sleep – Conner was bent over his bedside, trying to restrain him, and the clone looked concerned, even alarmed. With some effort, Kaldur forced his body to calm itself, the frantic gestures of his limbs fading into trembling, and let Conner push him back down onto the bed. From the doorway, Dinah and M'gann watched. The latter of the two had her hand over her mouth and a shaken look on her face.

"Thank you, Conner," said Dinah. She walked forward, bending to retrieve something from Kaldur's bedside, then straightened out to face Conner and M'gann, who still were still watching their team leader nervously. "A minute, if you don't mind."

The two hurried to obey and shut the door behind them, sharing a worried look as they did. Dinah turned her gaze down to Kaldur.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, resting her hand lightly on his shoulder.

"I am…" he began, then realized he didn't know how to finish that sentence. Mostly, he just felt like he'd slept for an eternity. He frowned. "Tired."

"I would expect so," she nodded. "Hungry at all?"

He thought about it.

"No."

"Then I'm going to need to put your IV back in," she said apologetically. "You knocked it out in your sleep, but we need to keep some food in your system."

"I am sorry," he said, glancing down. "I was…dreaming."

"Looked like one hell of a dream," said Dinah as she moved to fetch a fresh needle for the IV. "I think you scared our resident aliens back there. I've never heard you yell like that before."

"I did not realize I was yelling at all," Kaldur murmured. "How…how long have I been away?"

"Four days," said Dinah. She took a seat on the edge of his bed. "Hold out your hand."

He did, closing his eyes. Suddenly, he understood Roy's aversion to needles. It was impossible to corral his subconscious reaction to the idea of the injection, a strange and eager anticipation of the moment of puncture, combined with a sense of repulsion at his body's traitorous response. He swallowed hard as Canary pressed the point to the top of his hand, but when she squeezed his arm just as it broke skin, he felt a wave of gratitude for the distraction.

"There," said Dinah, taping the line into place and gently setting his arm back down on the bed. "You'll be glad to know we've run your blood through every test we know and you're clean, pathologically speaking."

"Clean?"

"Whatever else can be said about the people who abducted you, they at least used sterile needles."

He nodded, laying back on the pillows and closing his eyes a moment. He knew he should be relieved, yet the hunger lingering in his limbs seemed a disease unto itself, dormant but certainly present, as if it were just waiting for the right moment to consume him.

"You all right there, kiddo?"

"Yes. My apologies. I am…distracted."

"You have a right to be."

Dinah watched him in silence a while, her face soft but not fully readable.

"How long does it take to…recover?" he asked finally.

"That depends on many things," she said, regarding him with a strange, sad look. "Your physiology is only half human, so your recovery in particular will be unpredictable. But for most people, the first few days are the worst. Get through that, and after a week or so, you'll probably be able to start coping on our own. But complete recovery is…complicated. The blunt truth is that it's impossible. I wish I could tell you otherwise, Kaldur, but addiction is something you carry to the end of your days. It will get easier and easier with time, but it will always be there. I'm sorry."

He nodded silently. He had seen Roy in the warehouse. He knew what he was up against.

"I need to take care of a few things," said Dinah after a moment, rising from the bed. "Is there anything I can do for you before I go? Any more questions?"

"Is Roy safe?"

"Yes," she nodded, giving his shoulder an affectionate squeeze. "Aside from being out of his mind with worry about you. I'm going to go put him out of his misery right now and tell him you're awake and fine, if that's not a problem."

"It is not," said Kaldur, shaking his head. "Thank you."

"Try to stay in bed for at least another twenty minutes," Dinah told him as she stepped towards the infirmary door. "After that…your teammates would probably be glad to see you."

He nodded, and she slipped out of the room.

_Four days._ They had taken him for four days, and it would be at least a week before he could return to the team, before he could be trusted to be master of his own impulses. The wasted time ate away at his conscience as he sank down onto the pillows, weary to the bone.

He was supposed to be leader of this team. Yet he had neglected his duties to pursue a personal matter, and had even been so irresponsible as to let himself be captured. Looking back, Kaldur realized that he had been too intent on what was happening on the ground floor of that storeroom, too consumed with worry for Roy's safety to consider his own, and that had put them all in danger. Love had distracted him, and now he was paying for it.

Yet on some level, he could not regret it. The price was his to pay – no one else had been hurt, it seemed – and that was right. He was strong enough to get through this. He would heal, he would tell Roy how he felt, and it would all be over. He could go back to normalcy, to focus, to duty. He would be better for it, in the end. Alone, but better. Somehow.

After some time, when his thoughts began to drift too far afield, Kaldur removed his IV and stood, surprised at the shakiness of his own limbs – he had to grab the footboard of his bed to keep from falling over when his knees abruptly gave way, but he forced himself through the next few steps, and grew steadier with each one.

He found Conner and M'gann in the Cave kitchen, conversing in low voices; they stopped abruptly as he entered, both turning quickly to face him.

"You're up!" M'gann exclaimed, floating up and over the countertop to give him a warm embrace. He wasn't expecting it and at first, the whole thing was rather awkward, but after a moment he came to his senses and returned the gesture.

"Was I asleep so long?" he asked as she pulled away, unused to such attention from his teammates.

"No," said M'gann. "It's just…it's just good to see you."

Something about her tone of voice made him feel there was more to it that she wasn't telling him, but he couldn't be sure.

"You hungry?" asked Conner from across the counter.

"No, thank you," Kaldur declined. "Not yet."

The conversation petered out, and the three stood in awkward silence, but based on the subtle changes in expression on his teammates' faces, Kaldur guessed they were having some kind of telepathic conversation. He moved to lean against the counter, not wishing to interrupt them. After a moment, M'gann turned and offered him an unusually strained smile.

"I think I'm going to go upstairs and meditate for a little bit," she said. "You know, while we have the time."

And she floated off, leaving the two boys alone.

Conner folded his arms across his chest, looking around uncomfortably, before he leaned against the edge of the counter and let out a deep breath.

"Is everything all right?" Kaldur asked after a moment.

"Yeah, sorry," Conner said, shaking his head. "Just…uh, you feeling okay?"

"I have felt better," said Kaldur honestly – his muscles ached and he felt vaguely ill. "But I will mend soon enough. You seem troubled."

Conner grunted noncommittally, rubbing his arm. Kaldur watched him.

"Is there anything you would like to discuss?" he asked at last.

"No," the clone said quickly. "I mean…yes. There…there is. I know you told M'gann it's rude to read people's minds, and we weren't trying to be nosy or anything but you were kind of…yelling, you know? In your sleep. Some pretty weird things."

"I am afraid I do not recall any of them."

"You kept apologizing. Asking people to forgive you."

Kaldur frowned.

"For what?"

"I don't know. You weren't exactly coherent."

"I thought you implied you had Miss Martian read my thoughts."

"They weren't exactly coherent either."

"I see. Is that all?"

"No," said Conner, glancing over at him. "You uh, you dropped a lot of names."

Kaldur frowned slightly.

"Such as?"

"Everyone on the team," Conner said. "And Aquaman and Batman and Canary, a fair amount. And…Red Arrow. Well, you called him by his civilian name, mostly, but…you mentioned him a lot."

"It was on a mission with Red Arrow that I was captured," Kaldur deflected. "It is reasonable that he would be on my mind, however incoherent my thoughts."

"I also heard your conversation with Black Canary, when you came in late to training the other day," said Conner flatly.

Mind racing, Kaldur tried to remember exactly what he had said, but too much had happened since then; he wasn't sure what Conner had overheard, but it was probably incriminating.

"Using super-hearing to listen in on a private conversation is no less invasive than reading someone's private thoughts," he rebuked, albeit gently. He had to remember that Conner was not well-versed in Earth culture. He had no desire to upset his teammate.

"I'm sorry," Conner frowned, looking suddenly self-conscious. "I wasn't trying to."

"I am sure you were not," said Kaldur. "The point is moot, in any case. What were you trying to tell me about it?"

"I…" Conner began, frowning as he seemed to consider his words carefully. "Look, I don't know what the deal is with you and Red, but I just want you to know that you're entitled to a personal life, apart from the team. I know I'm not really one to talk, but you…I don't know. You don't have to take care of other people all the time. You can look after yourself once in a while. Yeah, we need you, but…we need you at your best. So just, do what you need to do, all right?"

Kaldur blinked. That wasn't exactly what he'd been expecting Conner to say. Surprised, he could say nothing for a moment, just considering what it was his teammate – no, his friend – had said, before he finally gave a slow nod.

"Thank you," he said with a faint smile. "I will…keep that in mind."

"Right," Conner mumbled, clearly unused to this kind of conversation. "And uh, if…if you need any heads bashed in, you know who to call."

Kaldur chuckled softly.

"Of course."

Just as he finished speaking, Conner's head jerked up, eyes alert, as if some sound had startled him. Kaldur stepped forward, giving the clone an inquisitive look.

"Tubes," Conner explained, still focused on the sound. "Argument. Two…no, three people."

"If they have come through the zeta-tubes, they are allies," Kaldur said. "There is no need to worry."

"I'm not worried for _us,_ I'm worried for _them,_" Conner remarked. "They sound like they're going to kill each other."

"Ah. Allow me to make an educated guess."

"Don't bother, I'm sure you've got it," said Conner, rolling his eyes. "Let's go."

The two of them left the kitchen, making their way through the Cave's central hallway towards the training room; as they approached, Kaldur began to hear the voices as well.

"…completely irresponsible in your current condition. You could have been killed, you could have been kidnapped, you could have – "

" – what the hell were you expecting me to do, just sit there and wait for a written invitation?"

"_Yes_, Roy, that's _exactly_ what I was expecting you to do, because I thought I'd taught you a little more _sense _than to – "

" – _You heard what she did_, Ollie, how could I…"

But Roy trailed off as Kaldur met his eyes from across the room, having just stepped out of the hallway and into the cavernous training room, barefoot and steady-gazed, Conner at his back.

"As I said, there is a time and place for this conversation, and this is not it," said Dinah, pushing past both Roy and Ollie impatiently. Her fingers closed around the older archer's wrist as she passed, dragging him towards one of the lower hallways; the two vanished into it and were gone, and a sudden movement at Kaldur's back told him that Conner, too, had decided it was a good time to disappear.

The training room had never seemed so wide than it did then as Kaldur made his way across it, fighting a multitude of reactions, desperately trying to figure out what to say to Roy. But when he was finally close enough to address him, close enough to see the tension in the archer's posture, close enough to see the conflict in those blue eyes, close enough to see the way he had stuffed both hands deep into his jacket pockets, all he could do was offer him half a smile and say,

"You have been taking your medication."

Without a word, Roy stepped forward and pulled him into a stiff embrace, warm and rough and everything Roy always was. Kaldur let his eyes slip shut and returned it cautiously, realizing that Roy's injured shoulder was pressed up against his, that he was probably causing his friend all sorts of pain, but he couldn't bring himself to pull away. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Roy let him go, stepping back, his jaw even tighter than usual, hands slipping back into his pockets as if he just didn't know what else to do with them.

"Kal…you…you have no idea how sorry I am," he croaked, his voice cracking, as if he could barely get the words out.

It was uncharacteristic enough for Roy to apologize, much less to be emotional about it, and to Kaldur, it was almost scarier than seeing him shot.

"It was not your fault," he said softly. "There is no need to apologize."

"It was," Roy pressed, shaking his head. "You have no idea. It _is_/i my fault. On so many levels, this is completely – "

"Stop," said Kaldur, cutting him off. "I am too tired to argue with you, but you are mistaken. It was my own inattention that left me vulnerable, and I will not let you take responsibility for it."

"I…" Roy said, then stopped, rubbing his right hand against his temple in frustration. "We can have this conversation some other time, but…just…let me be sorry, okay? Even if you don't believe me yet. Let me be sorry."

"Fine," Kaldur conceded. He watched Roy drop his hand back to his side, paused, and changed the subject. "Your arm seems to be healing well."

"Yeah," Roy muttered, lifting it and turning over his palm to look at it critically. "Yeah, it…been taking those shots, like you told me. Still hurts like a bitch, but I can get around now. Wash my own dishes and whatnot."

"And go chasing after drug lords," Kaldur commented quietly.

"I wasn't…" Roy began, cursing in frustration. "It was just…never mind, you're clearly already on Ollie's side. I'm not talking to you about this."

"I was only joking, my friend," said Kaldur.

"Sassy," Roy muttered disapprovingly.

They fell into companionable silence, and for a moment, Kaldur forgot all the unpleasantness of the last few days, as if he had just had a very long sleep, the darkness and the forced injections just some bad dream he would never face again.

"Where are all your obedient little followers?" Roy asked at last, looking around the Cave.

"Superboy and Miss Martian are around somewhere," said Kaldur. "I presume the rest are assisting their mentors or at home."

"And you?" Roy asked. "You going home, now that they'll let you?"

"I had not given it much thought," said Kaldur. Truth be told, he wasn't sure he wanted his mother seeing him like this. He wanted to be able to tell her the story with enough distance between him and it that she would not worry on his account.

Just as Roy opened his mouth to respond, the door to the bottom hallway opened and Black Canary and Green Arrow appeared, the latter looking considerably less grumpy than he had when he'd left.

"Boys," Dinah greeted, nodding to them both. "We should talk logistics."

"Logistics?"

"The team's on leave for a little while," she explained. "And _don't_ give me that look, Kaldur, it's not your fault, and it's not a problem. Bats and Flash have already been bitching about losing time with their precious little protégés lately, and there's no guarantee you all would have had a mission in this time anyway. The team is on leave. Its members are not. Except you, for obvious reasons."

Kaldur nodded. It didn't stop him feeling responsible for the whole thing, but he at least appreciated that his teammates' skills were not going to waste. M'gann and Conner would probably be glad to have some time to themselves for a few days, in any case.

"You have a few options," Dinah continued. "You can continue to stay here at the Cave, where Red Tornado, Miss Martian and Superboy will be available to provide care as you need it. You can return to Shayeris, where I'm sure your mother would be glad to do the same, or if you have another solution, now's the time to propose it."

Kaldur thought for a moment, back to the previous sleep. He did not want to stay in the Cave, not when Conner would surely wake to his cries again – his teammates did not need to see his subconscious spilling through the cracks of his drug-addled dreams; they already knew too much, it seemed. But home was out of the question. He could not bring stress like that to his mother.

"If it is possible," he began, "I would prefer to stay on my own. I would keep my communicator active."

"I'm sorry, but that's out of the question," said Dinah flatly. "You might feel fine now, but soon enough, you won't. And you'll want someone there when that happens. Trust me."

"Trust her," Roy echoed quietly. Kaldur cast a glance at his friend, acknowledging the hollow recollection in those words.

With a deep breath, Kaldur considered the options once more, when Roy's voice broke in once more:

"Come stay with me."

"Roy, don't be ridiculous, that's – " Ollie began, but Dinah elbowed him sharply in the side and he fell silent.

"I'm not going to relapse watching someone else go through what I went through," Roy said, casting an irate look at his former mentor. "If anything, it'll remind me why I quit in the first place. Come stay with me, Kal. I owe you."

Of all the people Kaldur wanted seeing him in whatever state was impending, Roy ranked last, but he couldn't deny that it made sense. Roy would understand. He would not judge. He would know what to do. And with his injury, he would not be sacrificing patrol or missions to do so. He was the logical choice.

(And on some level, Kaldur still could not resist the thought of getting to spend just a little more time with him. After all, if he held himself accountable, there was but a short while left until he drove them apart with his own untimely confession.)

"If you are sure it is not an inconvenience," he said finally.

Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Dinah and Ollie exchange a look, but he couldn't be sure.

"Done," Roy nodded. "Pack your bags, fishsticks. I'll show you my new flat."

Kaldur gave the archer a questioning look as he turned towards the stairs, intending to gather his things.

"New flat?"

"Old one was compromised, obviously," Roy explained. "So I upgraded. Need to lie low for a while until we solve the one little security problem, but it's a step up. Go get your stuff."

Kaldur nodded and headed up the stairs.

* * *

><p>The first wave of nausea hit him about ten feet out of the zeta-station; his knees suddenly buckled and he dropped to the ground, a cold sweat breaking out across his whole body in seconds. It was dark in the transit tunnel, and they were off the beaten path; he knew that if they were caught there, somebody would have questions, but he couldn't fight off the feeling – he jerked himself sideways and vomited off the platform and onto the tracks beneath, holding himself up on trembling arms.<p>

Roy's hand descended on his shoulder, holding him steady as he retched a few more times, the heaving gradually easing.

"Let it out," the archer muttered, crouching beside him. "It'll pass. Just let it out."

Nodding mutely, Kaldur closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, trying to force his body to cooperate. Finally, the boiling, twisting sensation in his stomach began to fade, and he slowly sat back, doing his best not to lean too heavily against Roy's side – he could hold himself up, dammit.

"You all right there?" Roy's voice sounded gently in his ear.

"Yes," Kaldur replied, after a moment. He let out one more breath to steady himself.

"Good, because the train should be here any second," said Roy. "Let's move."

They slipped into the maintenance staircase just as the next subway train came charging through the tunnel, the lights missing them by only a few feet. Still distracted by the unfamiliar and unpleasant sensations wracking his body, Kaldur followed Roy up the ladder to street level without a word, frustrated by his lack of control, and furthermore by the strange warmness spreading through his body. He tugged at the neck of his jacket as they emerged into the alleyway, wishing he could take it off, but the gills were a giveaway. It was out of the question.

"This way," Roy directed, catching his arm as he began to turn east out of habit. "New flat, remember?"

"Right," Kaldur muttered distractedly. Was it warm out? Star City was usually fairly cold, and on the main street, most people were dressed in coats and hats, but Kaldur wasn't feeling the chill. He skipped a step to catch up with Roy, who was leading the way down a side street.

About half a mile out, they ducked into another alley, where Roy stepped into a run-down phone booth, pulled the phone off the hook, and began to enter a series of numbers. Kaldur stopped paying attention after a moment, lifting a hand to wipe a beat of sweat off of his brow.

_It will pass, _he told himself, repeating Roy's earlier words. _Just wait, and it will pass. _

But by the time Roy had showed him the tunnel that opened at the back of the alleyway, it had not. If anything, he felt hotter even than before. They made their way through the darkness for what felt like forever, until at last, Roy pulled a lever in the ceiling, and a narrow staircase folded out towards them, light spilling down from the apartment above.

They climbed up. As Roy knelt to pull the trapdoor shut, Kaldur set his bag down on the kitchen table and unzipped his jacket , seeking to escape the stifling heat that had come upon him. The shoes followed a moment later, but the relief was short-lived on both counts. Still, he kept his face guardedly neutral, trying not to betray his discomfort lest he worry Roy, who at some point had started to talk about the new apartment's security measures; Kaldur hadn't been listening.

"…and a voice-encoded password," Roy was saying. "Some guy at work said he just happened to have a bunch of the tech lying around, old models and stuff, although it all looked pretty cutting-edge to me. The place is a huge improvement over that last piece of shit, though. You want to take a look around, so you know where to put my stuff once I inevitably trash it?"

Kaldur forced a smile at the joke, and consented to a tour of the apartment, which was indeed nicer than the previous one. It had a distant but serviceable view of the harbor from the living room, which also featured a fireplace, a kitchen with plumbing that didn't leak, and a bedroom actually large enough to contain both a full bed and a dresser.

"And when this whole thing is over and I can actually walk out the front door, there's room on the porch to – Kal, are you okay?" Roy asked, cutting himself off as he caught sight of his friend's face.

Kaldur heard the words as if from very far away. Before he had a chance to respond, Roy frowned in concern and reached out to press a hand to his forehead, and the touch _burned. _With a sharp intake of breath, Kaldur knocked Roy's hand away, stumbling backwards as white spots flashed through his vision.

"Sorry," he gasped out, feeling for the wall, to hold himself up – he was whiting out, losing sight of the room around him. It was as if he were back in that little black cell, reduced to sounds and sensations beyond his control.

"You're burning up," said Roy's voice, sounding alarmed. "Talk me through this. What's going on?"

"H-hot," Kaldur said, wishing that Roy would leave, so as not to see him losing his cool like this, and simultaneously afraid he would leave him to face it alone. "I cannot see."

Roy's hands gripped his upper arms, and as he tried to pull away from the white-blaze heat of his friend's touch, he felt the archer lower him to the carpeted hallway, saying things that got lost somewhere in the hazy distance between them. Then closer, clearer:

"Stay here."

Kaldur nodded, as if he had a choice in the matter, and gasped for breath, still sightless and panicked although he was trying his best to stay calm. Somewhere to his right, a sudden, dull roar sounded, then footsteps – Roy's – compressed the floor near his hands.

"Can you move?"

Kaldur nodded.

"Good," said Roy. "Follow my voice. You're gonna be fine, all right? Deep breaths."

Kaldur rose shakily to his feet, feeling the texture beneath them change from carpet to tile as Roy led him into what he thought must be the bathroom – the roaring sound seemed to be that of the bath filling. A grating sound and a beautifully chilly breeze ghosting across his face told him that Roy had also just opened the window.

"I'm going to touch you for just a second, okay?" said Roy's voice, just above his left ear. "Just to get you into the tub."

Nodding his consent, Kaldur tried not to flinch away as Roy placed a guiding hand on his back – it felt like a hot iron, even through his shirt. But a moment later, the archer was lowering him into ice-cold water, and the roaring in his ears was quieting, the shadows returning to his whitewashed vision, the world gradually coming back into focus. The faucet continued to gush as Roy's face sharpened out of the haze, worried but calm, and finally, Kaldur's breathing began to slow.

"Is this…normal?" he asked meekly, sinking lower to let the water lap at his gills. The effect was instantly cooling.

"Hot flashes," Roy nodded. "Yeah, had plenty of those. Canary used to joke I was going through menopause, when she thought I might be in a mood to take a joke. Mine were never that bad, though. You okay?"

"Yes," said Kaldur, closing his eyes. "I am sorry."

"I'm declaring a moratorium on apologies while you're here," said Roy, taking a seat on the edge of the tub. "You took care of me, I'll take care of you. Don't say you're sorry for things you can't help. How's the water?"

"Cold," Kaldur replied, then hurriedly finished as Roy frowned and reached for the temperature control: "Perfect."

"Right, half-fish and all that," said Roy, dropping his hand back to his side. He leaned against the wall. "Could by why it's this bad. Heat's not your thing in the first place."

Kaldur nodded, and they fell into silence. He closed his eyes to avoid the awkwardness of watching Roy watch him, and after some time, felt the archer reach over to turn off the water, as the tub was in danger of overflowing.

"Has your enemy been apprehended?" Kaldur asked finally, when too much time had passed not to say something. "The woman from the hospital?"

"Not yet," said Roy. "She had cleared out by the time Arrow, Canary and Aquaman found you."

"She seemed to know you," Kaldur said carefully, opening his eyes as he remembered the brief conversation that had taken place, when he'd first woken up in his cell. "She was…surprised that you did not recognize her."

"Yeah," Roy muttered, his expression twisting sourly. "Yeah. I…this is part of why – and I'm not trying to start this argument again – but this is part of why you should, on all accounts, beat the living daylights out of me and leave me in a dumpster in an alley somewhere. She's right. I should have recognized her in the hospital that night, and taken her out while I had the chance."

"Who is she?"

Roy took a deep breath.

"She is – was – my dealer."

Kaldur watched his friend's face carefully. He wasn't sure what to say to that.

"That's half the reason I'm to blame for this," said Roy. "I'll tell you the other half some other time. Maybe when you're not in my bathtub."

He cracked a half-hearted smile, which Kaldur returned, reminded of the absurdity of the whole situation. Here he was, fully clothed in Roy's tub, inches away from confessing why he'd come over in the first place, paralyzed by fear of his own body and confusion at the strangeness of Roy's expression, the way the unusual sadness of those blue eyes betrayed the typical smirk below.

"You look cold," Kaldur said at last, noticing the gooseflesh on Roy's arms. The window was still open, and the proximity of the freezing bathwater couldn't be helping either.

"Maybe a bit," the archer admitted.

"I will be fine in a moment," said Kaldur. "You should relocate to someplace warmer. Perhaps put your fireplace to good use."

"You sure?"

"I will call if I need help."

"Deal."

* * *

><p>The rest of the day passed with surprisingly little ado. Gradually, Kaldur's appetite returned, and he let Roy make him a late-afternoon meal, which to his relief, his body did not reject. When the sun set and the street lamps outside flickered to life, he inquired after his friend's injury, and had to hide his surprised appreciation as Roy responded by simply taking his shirt off to reveal the undressed wound. It looked good, as though it were weeks old, not mere days; the accelerant was clearly working, though the look on Roy's face as he lifted his right arm to pull his shirt back over his head betrayed the pain that still plagued him.<p>

Night fell. At some point, Roy unlatched the injection case and pulled out one of the last two syringes, uncapping it with his teeth as he leaned up against the wall, clearly intent on delivering the dose himself. But he hesitated when Kaldur closed his book and stood up from the armchair he'd been occupying. Their eyes met from across the room, then without a word, Kaldur walked over and plucked the syringe from Roy's hands, holding out his other hand expectantly.

It was different this time. Before, Kaldur had not understood. He had sought only to ease Roy's mind as he slid the needle home. But this time, as Roy laid his wrist in Kaldur's palm and closed his eyes, Kaldur had no words with which to distract his friend – instead, he felt the quickening of Roy's pulse echoed by his own, felt his own mouth grow inexplicably dry, felt a nauseating desire sweep through him, curling his stomach into knots, and it was Roy who suddenly spoke to pull them both out of it, voice low but steady.

It was a story of his childhood, out on the reservation. Kaldur had never once heard him talk about that life before, despite their years of friendship, had never even considered that at some point Roy must have been a child, not the headstrong, independent person he was now. But somewhere between Roy's accounts of making his first bow and the time he'd been thrown twelve feet off a horse into a ravine, he forced his thumb to the plunger and delivered the injection, and they stepped apart, both breathing a little too quickly.

Neither pointed the difference out.

* * *

><p>Roy had insisted he take the bed, but Kaldur couldn't sleep. The darkness moved about him endlessly; his eyes simply wouldn't stay shut. The clock on the opposite wall counted off the wasted minutes whenever he bothered to look over.<p>

_1:03._

_1:17._

_1:41._

_2:20._

_2:24._

_2:38._

_2:47._

_3:05._

And then the nightmare swallowed him.

Everything was burning. The trees, the fields, the rocks, the ocean itself – everything was burning, and there was nothing Kaldur could do to stop it. He watched as his teammates fell to the flames one by one, their cries echoing through Mount Justice, watched as the palace crumbled around the whole royal court, crushing his king and queen and their newborn heir, watched as Shayeris blazed into nothingness and took his mother away for good. Each time, he tried to help, and each time, just before he could reach his loved ones, he would freeze, paralyzed by an unseen force, made helpless by something out of his control, beyond his understanding.

The fire turned to Star City, and the hospital storeroom blazed. From below, Roy called out for his help, his right arm a bloodied stump below the bullet mark, but Kaldur could not jump over the railing to come to his aid; in fact, he couldn't move at all. He could only watch as the flames roared higher, as the heat became deadly, as Roy's cries grew increasingly desperate, and he could do _nothing._

And suddenly he became aware that one sensation wasn't as dreamlike as the others – Roy _was _calling for him, from close by, and there were hands on his chest, holding him to the bed as he twisted and turned and tangled himself up in the sheets; his eyes snapped open to see Roy staring down at him, but somehow, even after he had woken, the dream didn't stop. The panic lingered, the heat seemed to burn his skin, the images flashed through his head again and again and again, displacing the sight of his friend's worried face, hovering close above his own…

Caught between the safety of reality and the torment of his imagination, Kaldur did the first thing he could think of to anchor himself in the real world, which was to crush his mouth to Roy's in a desperate, jarring kiss.

It worked, at a price. The nightmare fell away, replaced by the waking hell of what he had just done. Roy didn't throw him off or hit him, as he'd thought he might, but he didn't kiss back either, and when at last Kaldur pulled away, panting and fearful, the archer's eyes were wide with shock and other emotions too fleeting to name.

Silence next, thick and tense.

"I…" Kaldur gasped out at last, releasing Roy's arm as he noticed his own death grip on it. "I am sorry, I…"

"Don't," Roy cut him off.

Kaldur's stomach plummeted.

Another moment passed, the two just staring at each other through the darkness, then abruptly, Roy rose. Kaldur closed his eyes as he felt the archer move away, his own thoughts a tangled mess of regret and confusion and indulgent self-hatred, when suddenly, the bed dipped at his back.

He stiffened. But before his questions had a chance to get off the ground, warm arms wrapped around his chest, Roy's breath ghosted against the back of his ear, and his own body relaxed of its own accord, sending his tired mind spiraling back towards sleep. Any frantic line of thought he had been pursuing before that moment vanished in an instant, leaving him with only the soothing rhythm of Roy's heartbeat as his friend held him close enough to feel it against his back.

Roy never said a word.

Kaldur did not dream again that night.


	8. Eight

When he awoke, the apartment was empty; Roy was gone. Though he was tempted to check in via comm, Kaldur stopped himself. They were not there to babysit each other, and after the previous night, it was more than possible that Roy needed some time away to think (or perhaps, Kaldur thought grimly, to recover).

This was not to say that his conspicuous absence didn't practically nauseate Kaldur with worry and guilt, though it was difficult to distinguish the turmoil caused by his mind from that of his body. All other matters aside, he ached for the drug. Despite the whole experience of it, despite the memories of that dark, tiny room and the way it had been forced upon him, the craving was still with him; he felt numb, half-asleep, as if the only thing that would wake him up was a hit – just one more…

Forcing his thoughts away from the feeling, Kaldur made his way to the bathroom and splashed some cold water into his face. In the mirror, he met his own eyes, icy and conflicted. He hesitated, staring at himself, at the foreign uncertainty in his own gaze.

When had he lost himself? He had always been so sure, so in control; even if he hadn't always been particularly happy, he had at least known what path to walk and how to walk it. But his thoughts had strayed, and he had followed them. And now he had no idea where to go.

"Enough," he murmured quietly to himself, straightening out.

As he packed his things, he thought through his next course of action. It was time to end this distraction, time to stop indulging his foolish fantasies and get on with life, with duty. It had taken him years to work up to the disappointment of Tula's rejection. He would not waste any more time waiting for Roy's. After all, it was not his job to be happy. It was his job to be in command, and if he couldn't even take charge of his own mind, he did not deserve to lead the team in the first place.

He slipped his communicator into his ear and dropped a note onto the kitchen table:

_Swimming. We need to talk._

* * *

><p>The harbor was not hard to find. Even if it hadn't been visible from the window of Roy's apartment, Kaldur could have sensed the water nearby, since it was only a few blocks from the alley into which the tunnel opened. As he shut the door behind him, it occurred to him that he couldn't actually come back – while Roy's identity was still compromised, the front door was out of the question, and he had been too ill on their first arrival to pay attention to the codes necessary for reentry. But he had his comm, and he'd left the note. Roy would find him.<p>

It was a clear morning, brisk and cool. At the pier, a few boats bobbed at their stations, but for the most part the place was deserted, the city's energies away at the shops and the offices further inland. Shucking his jacket and shoes, Kaldur set them on top of the first wharf post and walked out down the dock until he was standing with webbed toes curled around the splintered wood at its end.

Then with a single, fluid motion, he dove. His body slid into the water without a splash, and coolness rushed over his limbs, caressing his tattoos with a familiar touch he had been denied too long. Taking a deep breath of the harbor water, he felt his head begin to clear, the pains of his withdrawals sliding away as he moved deeper, enjoying the clarity he had only ever been able to achieve beneath the surface. The world fell away for a moment. He surrendered himself to the water, and in return it filled him with a blank, empty sort of peace, impartial and endless and blessedly simple. The sea didn't care about secrets or lies, about friendship or loyalty, about love or loneliness. It just _was_.

How long he spent trailing his fingers along the sandy bottom, or watching the sun break filter through the waves above, or free-wheeling through the posts that supported the dock, Kaldur wasn't sure. But when he broke the surface again, someone was waiting for him, leaned up against a boathouse on the shore and watching him from a distance.

He approached cautiously. From so far away, he wasn't sure who it was, and with his jacket and shoes removed his identity was at stake (not that it was a secret in the first place, but his face was not well-known among land dwellers, and he preferred it that way). But as his feet touched the rocky bottom and he began to emerge from the water, he recognized his watcher, and froze, still thigh-deep in the waves, tattoos flaring to life as he prepared to –

"Don't try anything funny," the woman, his kidnapper, warned, holding up a small device and stepping forward. "I'm here to talk."

"You had your time to talk," Kaldur shot back, the waters rising around him threateningly. His hydrokinesis was greatly reduced without his waterbearers, but there was no precision required, here – he had only to send a wave crashing down upon her, then subdue her by force of hand. She was alone and undefended, it seemed, unarmed but for that strange contraption in her hand…

"Stop the water show or my men shoot," she said. "I press this button, they get the green light."

Kaldur narrowed his eyes suspiciously, the waves hovering around him as he evaluated her threat. There was nowhere to hide on the pier but the boathouse itself, and it could hold no more than two, perhaps three attackers. Besides, it would take them a moment just to evacuate the building, giving him plenty of time to maneuver back into the water, where the advantage would be his once more. It was a fight he could win, and easily.

"I do not fear your men," he said at last. "Let them shoot."

"Oh, how adorable," the woman smirked. "You think I mean they'll shoot _you._"

Kaldur stared, the strain of holding up the water without his weapons beginning to wear on him. With an indulgent smile, the woman adjusted her sunglasses and tapped a finger against the device in her hand.

"I have no desire to kill you," she continued. "I came here to do a little business, so that really doesn't suit my purposes at all. But our…mutual friend…he's another story. I know you don't fear for your own life, Kaldur. But do you fear for Roy's?"

His face stayed stone cold, but inside, Kaldur's stomach twisted in terror. Ordinarily, he would never have even considered that Roy could be captured by some group of thugs. But this woman seemed to know all sorts of things about his friend, things that made her a much more formidable threat, and beyond that, there was the matter of his injury. Where _had _Roy been that morning…?

"You are lying," he said flatly.

"I could be," the woman admitted. "Are you willing to risk his life on it?"

Gritting his teeth, Kaldur hesitated, then slowly let the water fall back into the harbor.

"Talk," he ordered, relenting.

"Good," the woman nodded, slipping the device back into the pocket of her overcoat. "I thought we'd see eye to eye on that one. But I've skipped all the pleasantries, haven't I? How are you feeling?"

"Do not waste my time," Kaldur snapped.

"And here I was, thinking you were wasting _mine_ with that silly little standoff," she said. "But it doesn't matter. You don't need to tell me how you're feeling. I'm sure I can guess."

"My physiology – "

"Oh, don't patronize me, _Aqualad_," the woman laughed. "I watched you trip for four days. You're not that different from the rest of us. Probably a good thing for you, actually – if you were, that would make your big crush on Harper so much more problematic than it already is."

Kaldur tried not to react, but the satisfied smirk that spread across the woman's face told him he hadn't succeeded. She folded her arms over her chest and watched him, clearly enjoying herself.

"It's always cute when you all think you're so mysterious," she said. "But everyone's tongue loosens in the right circumstances. I wonder what he would have thought, hearing you say his name like that…"

Kaldur flushed angrily, fingers curling into fists, but while she held Roy's life in her hands – if, indeed, she did – he could do nothing. Besides, he told himself, she was only trying to provoke a response from him. He did himself no favors by giving her what she wanted.

"Are you finished?" he asked. "Or do you care to mock me a little longer?"

"Strange, I'm starting to get the feeling you don't want to talk to me," the woman remarked, her smile maddeningly amused. "And after Roy always said how _polite _you were…"

"You spoke of business," said Kaldur, trying not to wonder in what absurd context Roy had said any such thing to his dealer, of all people. "I would have you get on with it."

"And so _patient_, he used to tell me," she laughed as she reached into her pocket. "But I suppose he's always been a little dramatic. In any case, yes. I had an offer to make you, quite a good deal in fact, so I hope you'll consider it carefully."

And she withdrew a capped syringe from her coat pocket, filled partway with a murky brownish fluid.

Kaldur had never actually seen the substance before, but he knew what it was at once, and before he could steel himself, his body reacted with unequivocal desire. His breath hitched. His heart raced. He broke out in a cold sweat, just barely controlling the sudden trembling of his limbs before his captor could see it.

"Keep your poison," he snapped, uncharacteristically irritable. "I have no use for it."

"I'm sure you could think of one," she cajoled, holding it towards him.

He turned away, disgusted with himself; he couldn't look at the stuff without wanting it. Then suddenly, her voice was in his ear, smooth and reassuring:

"Think how good it would feel. Think how _easy_ it would make telling him…"

He closed his eyes, resolutely _not _thinking of either of those things, especially not that last one. The syringe dangled from her fingertips, hanging between them like an unanswered question.

"You could have it right here, right now," she pressed. "You know I know how to do it. You know it's clean. Just one little hit, then you can go back and do what you need to do."

At war with himself, Kaldur tried desperately to reason his way out of it. He forced himself to remember the illness and helplessness and despair that had been his since he'd come off it, reminded himself of Roy's lingering struggle to keep to the straight and narrow, made himself consider the rescue efforts that he would throw away by succumbing. He knew in no uncertain terms that to give in was wrong.

But all these things paled to meaninglessness next to the thought of one more hit, one more high, one more chance to forget everything that was holding him down, everything that was bad and painful and difficult, and just _be. _His body was screaming for it. His mind, overwhelmed by the din, was rapidly losing control.

"I…" he began, but could not finish.

With a deep breath, he turned and held out his hand.

The woman smirked.

"And he thought you were too _good _for it," she mused as she dropped the syringe into his waiting palm –

_Fsssssst._

– but before it could land home, a red-fletched arrow hissed between them and struck the glass chamber that contained the drug, shattering it into a thousand pieces that showered into the water and were lost with the waves.

Instantly, both Kaldur and his kidnapper wheeled around to face the origin of the shot, searching the waterfront for its inevitable source. And when Kaldur's eyes alighted on Roy, perched atop the warehouse across the street with bow drawn, his heart didn't know whether to sink or soar.

"Move, and I put a hole in your shoulder to match the one you put in mine," the archer called out to his ex-dealer, an arrow already nocked. "Talk to him _ever again_ and I put a hole in your chest for every word you've said."

Out of the corner of his eye, Kaldur caught a tiny movement, and realized that the woman's fingertips were slipping into her pocket, the one that contained the device she'd threatened him with earlier. And though he recognized that if Roy was up there, her threat had been empty, he had no desire to find out what the contraption was actually for.

He shot out his hand, seizing her wrist and jerking it back out of her pocket.

"I would not touch that if I were you," he warned.

"Funny, I was about to say the same," she replied, and lashed out with her other hand. Before he could move out of the way, something sharp pierced the side of his neck, inches from his gills, and as he recoiled in pain she wrenched her arm free of his grip. For a brief instant, panic paralyzed him – what had she used to puncture him like that, and _what had been in it? _– then he forced himself back into the moment and lunged after her, just as gunfire suddenly exploded above their heads. A handful of gunmen had emerged onto the rooftop of the building opposite Roy and opened fire, but the archer was long gone, already flying down a zip line to street level.

"Aqualad!" he called out. "Catch!"

Kaldur halted and looked up in time to see two metal objects arcing through the air towards him. He caught them as Roy dropped to the street beside him and rolled upright – they were his waterbearers, and just in time too, for Roy's arrival had drawn gunfire from above. Pulling water from the harbor at their backs, Kaldur threw up a shield and stepped forward to defend them both.

As Roy fired off arcing countershots at their rooftop attackers, a sleek black car suddenly swerved out onto the road and raced towards them. The woman, who was now but a few paces in front of them, lunged for the passenger door as it slowed just enough to let her in, but Kaldur reacted quickly. Diverting some of the water from the shield into his right waterbearer, he whipped out a long coil of water that wrapped around her leg, snaring her to the spot. She cursed and tried to pull away, but it held, at least until the driver of the car drew some kind of automatic weapon and began to fire out the door. Atlantean skin was dense, but not dense enough to stop a bullet; Kaldur re-formed the shield to protect himself, and the car began to pull away, the woman hauling herself inside as it went.

Roy swore and shouldered his bow to tear after her, grabbing Kaldur's arm to drag him along.

"Priorities!" he yelled in explanation.

Kaldur kept the shield up as they chased after the car, though the gunfire was slacking off as the men on the roof seemed to sense the battle was relocating. When the last of them disappeared, he let the water drop and shifted a hand to the puncture site in his neck; his fingertips came away bloody.

But there was no time to worry about it. Roy was already swinging over the handlebars of his motorcycle, which had been standing in the alleyway into which the car had veered.

"Get on," he ordered, jerking his head at the seat behind him. Kaldur barely had time to comply before the kickstand was up and they were shooting forward, the sudden acceleration nearly knocking him off the back of the bike.

As they sped off, the doors at the foot of the building burst open and the gunmen rushed out in hot pursuit, but Roy paid them no heed, gunning the engine and zipping forward as fast as it would let him. By the time shots rang out, they were out of range.

"You wanted to talk about something?" Roy yelled back to Kaldur as he swerved to maneuver between two lanes of traffic – their target was just a few rows up.

"Now does not seem the time, my friend!"

"Right! Mind if I get something off my chest, then?"

"As long as it is not me!"

Roy let out a surprised laugh – Kaldur wasn't usually one for humor, particularly not at a time like that, not when they were careening between semi trucks and incurring angry honks left and right and gaining on their target. But it was also true that the Atlantean was hanging onto him for dear life, so it seemed that for once, Kaldur had managed to pull off a joke, surface-style. Before Roy had a chance to congratulate him, though, his masked eyes darted to the rear-view mirror and narrowed.

"Company at 6:00," he warned.

Kaldur craned his neck around, and sure enough, a small squad of motorbikes had infiltrated the traffic behind them, their riders visibly armed. The gunmen had come prepared.

"Do you not have police in Star City?"

"They'll be here soon enough, now shut up!" Roy shouted over the sound of the traffic and the wind and his bike engine. "I need to tell you something!"

"You have my attention!"

This was only half-true; Kaldur had drawn one waterbearer as they'd approached the upcoming bridge, and was preparing to pull from the water below to defend them, should the need arise. Roy glanced back at him, distracted, then looked back at the road in front as he jerked them through a deep, banked left turn to continue their pursuit.

"Well?" Kaldur prompted. He was trying to be a good listener, but it was a little difficult while he was hanging off the back of Roy's motorcycle as the archer violated every traffic rule known to man and all the while, a small army of armed gunmen advanced on the both of them.

"I'm trying to think of a good way to put it!"

"We may not have time for that, my friend!"

Just as Kaldur spoke, the first shot rang out. With no ammunition (Roy had only brought the waterbearers, not his pack), Kaldur simply held the metal of his weapons up as a barrier; a bullet glanced off one with a metallic clang.

"All right, fine!" Roy shouted, glancing back. "I love you!"

Kaldur nearly fell off back the bike, but reasserted his grip in the nick of time.

"You what?"

"This is the other half of why you should blame me for all this!" Roy called back; they passed a fountain and Kaldur seized the opportunity to draw water from it, nearly causing the next car over to crash in surprise as the fluid arced over its windshield. "I love you, and I told her! That's why she targeted you! I'm sorry!"

Mind racing, Kaldur tried to make sense of this as he tried to juggle several things at once – he had one hand still wrapped around Roy's chest, keeping himself on the bike, while he twisted backwards and used the other to wield his newly-formed shield against the two enemies who were firing rapidly at them both. It was as if he couldn't even process what Roy was telling him, the thought put on hold until he had the mental faculties to address it.

"You could, you know, say something!" Roy shouted.

Kaldur shifted to block a shot that would have struck the car beside them.

"I am a little busy!"

Not to mention _confused as all fuck. _

"Dammit," Roy swore, checking the mirror. "We need to take these guys out before they start hitting civilians. Are you clear to jump?"

Kaldur glanced behind. There was a sufficient gap between them and the truck that was following, and more and more cars were pulling off onto sidestreets, apparently sensing the danger.

"Yes," he replied as he turned back to face forward, bullets ricocheting off the shield at his back. "Be safe, my friend. I will rendezvous as soon as possible. I – "

" – now!" Roy interrupted.

And Kaldur jumped, sentence unfinished. He hit the pavement at an angle but rolled immediately upright as traffic swerved to avoid him, horns blaring. To his credit, he had landed directly in the path of one of their attackers, who had to turn so forcibly to avoid hitting him that he was thrown from his mount and sent tumbling into the bushes some meters beyond, his bike skidding down the road, riderless.

This left four remaining. Scrambling to the first goon's abandoned motorcycle, Kaldur was soon up and back in the flow of traffic, racing toward the nearest gunman, who was now in front of him. With both hands on the steering, he couldn't make use of his waterbearers, which were cradled in his lap, but as he pulled up behind his target he thought of a better idea.

Pulling sharply to one side, he gunned the engine and zoomed up beside the man, who turned to fire his weapon. But before he got the chance, Kaldur seized the barrel and sent heavy electric charge through the metal to the man's arm – with a garbled yell, the gunman fell from his motorcycle and narrowly missed the front bumper of a young woman's SUV, rolling to the safety of the sidewalk as he writhed from the shock.

_Roy loved him. _

Kaldur swerved across three lanes, taking one hand off the steering to pick up one of his waterbearers. Ahead, on the left, there was a fountain in a public square; the distance would make the grab difficult, but he could manage it.

_Roy had said he loved him._

Down went the next goon, the water-spear in his spokes showering across the asphalt as Kaldur released the construct and grabbed the handlebars once more. Two down, two to go. But they were rapidly approaching Star Bridge, which would undoubtedly be crowded with cars, bicyclists and pedestrians – it was imperative he stop them before they reached it, or many more civilian lives would be endangered.

Jerking his front wheel up and hopping the curb, Kaldur zoomed across an empty sidewalk corner to cut off the last two thugs. Both were lifting their guns to fire, probably at Roy, who by now had to be about a street ahead of them all; Kaldur knew how his friend rode when he didn't have to worry about a passenger. But before their aim could steady, Kaldur wheeled his bike around to oppose the flow of traffic and shot forward, setting himself on a direct collision course with one of them. Too focused on his more distant target, the man noticed only at the last second, and fired a panicked shot that went straight to the sky as the two bikes collided in a screeching crunch of metal and glass, and he was sent flying.

Kaldur hurried picked himself up off the road, having thrown himself from his mount just in time. The oncoming traffic, an old blue pickup, blared its horn as it swerved to avoid him, and he seized the opportunity to leap up and catch hold of the side of its truck bed. With a grunt of exertion he pulled himself into the back and let it carry him up towards the other gunman, who had just opened fire.

Pedestrians were screaming and cars were veering out of their lanes left and right as the roadway dissolved into panicked chaos, but Kaldur did not allow himself to become part of it. Crouching down in the truck bed, he kept his eyes on his target, waiting for the right moment.

_Roy loved him back. _

It came. Kaldur threw himself from the moving truck and tackled the gunman straight off his bike, sending the two of them spinning towards the pavement, right into the path of an oncoming bus.

There was nowhere to go, and no time to go there. Kaldur felt the impact in mid-air, felt the glass crack against his back, felt pain erupt across his body, then he was hitting the sidewalk and rolling, his sight a rapid spin of sky and concrete and street-view that made his very brain hurt, until at last he slammed into a brick storefront and came to rest, dazed.

For a moment, his senses were too garbled to process much. His vision swam and the noise around him blurred into a nauseating soup of sound, then the wailing of approaching sirens cut through it all and he struggled to his feet, much to the surprise of the crowd that had begun to form around him.

"Aqualad to Red Arrow," he managed to say, pressing a finger to his comm as he staggered forward. "Requesting location."

The device crackled in his ear.

"Negative," said Roy's voice. "Situation's under control over here. I'll meet you in the alleyway by…well, you know where."

Kaldur took a moment to catch his breath, glancing around at his surroundings as his head slowly cleared.

"That sounds disreputable," he remarked finally.

"Don't get sassy with me."

Roy's voice sounded a little strained, despite the joke.

Kaldur's gaze swept over the large group of pedestrians who were staring at him, wide-eyed, and it occurred to him that they probably didn't see a lot of people get hit by a bus and get back up moments later. Besides that, the police were pulling up, directing traffic and rounding up the various men Kaldur had incapacitated. It was all getting a little crowded, and he was keen to leave.

"Perhaps you could pick me up," he suggested.

"Right, sure," replied Roy. "But uh, before I do, though, just…um…about what I said earlier – "

" – I feel the same," Kaldur interrupted, his head pounding too hard to figure out a graceful way to have this conversation. "If you meant what you said, then I feel the same. I have for…for some time, now."

Silence on the other end.

"Ro…Red Arrow?"

"You're not fucking with me, right?"

Roy's voice was quiet, disbelieving. Kaldur pondered his response.

"Not yet," he said at last.

"…did you just make a sex joke?"

"My apologies. I have clearly spent too much time in your company as of late."

"Right," Roy said, sounding dazed.

"Perhaps we could discuss this further in person," Kaldur suggested. And whether it was the suppressed giddiness of having his affections returned, or the fact that he'd just been hit by a bus, he couldn't help but add, "_Face to face_, if you will."

"…is this actually Aqualad?" Roy questioned suspiciously, before he seemed to change his mind. "Forget it. Right. Um. Where are you?"

Kaldur glanced up at the street sign and gave the address.

"Are the police there?"

"Yes," Kaldur replied, confused.

"Damn."

"Why do you ask?"

He could practically hear the smirk spreading across Roy's face.

"Because I'm about to break all sorts of speed limits."


	9. Nine

When Roy pulled up to the plaza, it was no small event. One of the policemen taping off the area around the bus for clean-up suddenly straightened out with a cry of "look who's here!" and as Kaldur watched, several other officers turned away from the witnesses they were interviewing or the damage reports they were filling out, and instead rushed over to greet the archer, crowding around and clapping him on the back. It seemed he was a bit of a local hero.

(Although as soon as he thought it, Kaldur felt very stupid. Of course Roy was a local hero. He was _definitionally _a local hero.)

"Hey Red Arrow!" one of officers called out. "I hear you and GA just took out Corcifus!"

"Seriously? The whole ring?" another asked dubiously.

"Just the boss," said Roy, dismounting his bike and looking around as if distracted. "And whoever you rounded up here. Should be a start, though."

Kaldur rose from where he'd been slouching against a wall and drew his friend's gaze; when Roy spotted him, the two shared a nod.

"Well, it's only noon," a policeman joked. "You've still got time."

"Nah," Roy dismissed with an easy smile. "I got other plans today. 'Scuse me."

He shouldered his way through the crowd of babbling officers, eyes trained on one thing alone. Kaldur stood to watch him approach, and all the bustle of the plaza seemed to fall away for the few second it took to close the distance between them.

"You are bleeding," he remarked as Roy came to stand before him at last. The archer's uniform was ripped at the knee, and he had accumulated various scrapes and bruises, including a nasty cut on his forearm, above his bow guard. But Roy didn't even look down to see what Kaldur meant.

"Oh," he said simply, and kissed him.

Somewhere nearby, somebody gasped. But truly, Kaldur could not bring himself to care. Roy's lips were warm and rough against his own, Roy's touch firm against the side of his neck, Roy's arms strong and sure as they finally slipped around him to pull him impossibly close, and it all seemed to go on forever in the best possible way. When finally they broke apart, it took Kaldur several moments to regain enough sense to realize that most of the people in the crowd around them were either staring or trying very hard not to.

"We just busted Star City's biggest drug ring," muttered Roy, noticing the stares, and Kaldur's discomfort. "They can deal. C'mon, let's go home."

With a final visual sweep of the area, Kaldur satisfied himself with the knowledge that the police had things under control. Then he looked back to Roy and gave a nod, letting the archer take him by the hand and pull him back through the crowd to his motorcycle, which was now sporting a cracked headlight.

"Occupational hazards," Roy shrugged, and mounted it anyway. Kaldur slid in behind him, and soon they were speeding away from the noise and the lights and the police tape, toward the quiet of the harbor.

* * *

><p>Kaldur watched as Roy entered the necessary codes and voice cues to open the tunnel and the two slipped into the shadows, the bike wheeled between them. He hadn't been paying much attention the first time around, too focused on the heat that had consumed him then, but now he could appreciate the usefulness of such a space – not only did it protect Roy's true home from detection, it could house his entire secret identity, with room for his motorcycle, his uniform, his bows and his considerable stock arsenal of trick arrows. The only clue the apartment itself needed to hold was the trapdoor, which was nearly invisible in the kitchen floor.<p>

As the tunnel closed behind them, the two parked Roy's motorcycle against the south wall and continued through the underground, the sounds of the city dying away at their backs. About ten paces in, Roy's hand brushed Kaldur's gently, directing him through a turn he hadn't seen in the darkness; the innocuous touch sent goosebumps running up his arm, and with a faint sense of disbelief he realized that such a reaction was no longer inappropriate. He was _allowed _to feel this way now.

A moment later, it happened again, and he actually dared to enjoy the brief contact, letting his hand linger against his friend's even after they'd navigated the turn; he sensed Roy cast a glance at him through the black, but neither said anything. The third time it happened, Roy's fingers slipped between his, half-intertwined as his thumb brushed lightly over the webbing between Kaldur's thumb and index finger. Unable to suppress the ripple of pleasure the touch elicited, Kaldur let out the tiniest of gasps. Then suddenly, and without a word of warning, Roy had slammed him against the nearest wall and claimed his lips once more, hands fisting in the skintight material of his costume.

"Why – " the archer panted between sudden, fierce kisses, " – didn't you _tell _me?"

Kaldur groaned as Roy's palm slid up his chest, heavy and warm.

"I – I intended to," he managed to gasp out. Roy's lips had dropped to his neck, leaving him practically writhing with excitement. "But then you – got shot – bad…bad timing…"

"To hell with - _timing,_" hissed Roy. "Waited – too goddamn long – I should've – _mmmph!_"

Kaldur had pulled him up sharply for another kiss, muffling the rest of his sentence.

"Told me?" the Atlantean prompted breathlessly. "Why – _nngh_ – why didn't you?"

Roy suddenly pulled away, a strange, hollow laugh escaping his lips. As the two of them caught their breath a moment, he leaned his forehead against Kaldur's, one hand against the side of his face.

"Kal," he said finally, taking a deep breath. "You don't touch something clean with dirty hands."

"I…I do not follow."

Roy's thumb brushed softly over the curve of Kaldur's cheekbone, tracing the outline of his face as he seemed to ponder his next words.

"You're _good_," he said at last, voice quiet. "And I'm just…not. Not like you. You've been the one consistently good thing in my life ever since I met you, and frankly, the further away from me you are, the better off you'll be. I couldn't…I could never bring myself to risk messing that – messing _you_ up, like I do everything else. I'm bad news, Kal. You deserved better than that. I mean, you still do. What are you even doing here? Get the hell out."

But his hoarse laugh and the way he failed to move away in the slightest betrayed his words.

"You undersell yourself, my friend," said Kaldur softly, seeking Roy's gaze in the darkness. "One wrong turn does not make you 'bad news.'"

"I'm not talking one wrong turn," said Roy. "I mean, come on. You know me. I'm a walking attitude problem."

Kaldur laughed and lifted a hand to adjust the strap of Roy's quiver, letting his hand linger a little too long against the archer's bare shoulder.

"It is part of your charm," he said with a coy smile.

Roy's lips found his in reply, and Kaldur slid his hands up from his shoulders, fingers carding through Roy's hair as their talk dissolved once more.

They carried on breathlessly. Both seemed lost in a moment that had been so long and arduous in the making; Kaldur found that even with Roy's hands pressing him to the cool cement of the tunnel wall and Roy's mouth eager and hot against his gills, he was having a hard time believing it was all real, and not just some cruel delusion brought on by the chemicals still lingering in his blood. Then abruptly, Roy's teeth raked over the puncture site in his neck, and a sharp sting pierced the pleasure, drawing a pained hiss from his lips.

"You okay?" Roy gasped, pulling away and running his hand over the spot. Against his will, Kaldur flinched. "Sorry. That's a no, then."

"I have had worse," Kaldur protested.

"I know you have," said Roy, stroking the uninjured side of his neck and watching the resulting shudder with no small amount of satisfaction. "But I want to be able to kiss you wherever the hell I want and not worry that I'm hurting you."

With considerable effort, Kaldur forced his attention away from the callused fingertips that were caressing the slits of his gills.

"I suppose your wounds require tending as well," he relented, shivering.

Roy reached up to pull the lever that would bring down the stairs, and as the light from the apartment flooded down to illuminate them both, he smirked.

"Just the wounds?"

* * *

><p>"I'm starved," Roy announced as he set aside the med kit and moved to wash his hands – he'd just sewed up the gash in his forearm, leaving Kaldur to wonder at the fragility of human skin. "Lunch?"<p>

"I can cook," Kaldur volunteered.

"Hell no," said Roy, looking up from the sink with a grin. His hair was still wet from his shower and his blue eyes were piercing in the afternoon sun that slanted through the blinds. "My identity's safe again. We're ordering delivery."

He called it in as Kaldur relaxed into the (surprisingly comfortable) couch. He was exhausted, and still fairly sore – getting hit by a bus tended to have that effect, even on Atlanteans – but gone were the worst of the withdrawals, the nausea and the hot flashes and the bone-deep aches that had plagued him the day before. Perhaps it was only a temporary reprieve, but he was grateful nonetheless, that he had the clarity of mind to appreciate the moment.

"I'm about to inaugurate the porch with a cigarette," Roy called from the kitchen. "Join me?"

Outside, the sun was burning off the last of the day's cloud cover, warming Star City past what the time of year would normally allow. Kaldur zipped up his jacket as he stepped outside, but didn't bother to put on shoes – no one would be able to see his feet from the street, and he liked the feeling of the wood beneath his toes anyway.

They shut the front door behind them. Roy smoked and Kaldur watched the harbor, the two falling into comfortable silence as if they had been doing this for years, which, to be fair, they had. But it was different now. This time, it wasn't odd that Roy watched Kaldur watch the water, and it wasn't strange that when Kaldur caught him doing it, they just shared a knowing smile and went back to what they were doing. Kaldur's thoughts drifted, wondering how much time they had thrown away, not knowing the secret the other kept, both too proud or paradoxically too scared to say anything.

"What're you thinking about?" Roy asked after a time, taking a drag from his cigarette.

"What makes you think I am thinking?"

"You're a thinking kind of guy," replied Roy. "And you've got that look in your eye."

Kaldur smiled guiltily, turning around to rest his back against the porch railing.

"You know me too well, my friend," he said.

"Okay, hold up a second," said Roy, the hint of a mischievous smirk playing at his lips. "How long are you going to keep calling me that?"

"Calling you what?" Kaldur asked, confused.

"Your friend."

"Oh," said Kaldur, blinking. "It is an Atlantean expression of familiarity. Does it not translate well?"

Roy laughed, shaking his head and tapping out the ash from the end of his cigarette.

"No, forget it. It's cool," he said. "What were you going to say?"

"I was just thinking about…what you said earlier, about what you told your dealer," said Kaldur slowly. He cast a glance at Roy to make sure he was not making his friend uncomfortable, but the archer just seemed to be waiting for him to go on. "I do not understand when you could have told her such a thing. You have been clean for two years now."

Roy took a drag from his cigarette, then let it out in one long breath, letting the wind carry the smoke away. His expression hadn't changed.

"Two years," he echoed, as if still waiting for Kaldur to finish the question. "Yeah."

"But you…" Kaldur frowned. He didn't understand. "Did you continue to see her, after you had quit?"

"No," said Roy.

"Then…"

"Is it really that hard to believe I could keep my mouth shut for two years?" Roy interrupted.

Kaldur blinked in surprise.

"_Oh."_

"Sorry if that's retroactively ruined any good memories or whatever," Roy said, blowing a smoke ring. "I just figured you were better off not knowing."

Kaldur was silent a moment. He was still recovering from the shock of finding out that Roy returned his affections in the first place, but to learn that he had harbored such feelings long before Kaldur himself had…it was all rather overwhelming (though also flattering, to be sure).

"Did you think I would spurn your friendship if you…spoke of your feelings?" he asked at last.

"No," said Roy, shrugging. "I know you're better than that. I just didn't want to put that on you. I know you, Kal. You wouldn't have just forgotten about something like that. You would have made it your problem, and I didn't want to do that to you, to be that to you. You had enough on your plate as it was, with the new language and the new culture and the new sidekick gig."

Kaldur looked at his friend a moment.

"You are very good at rationalizing your tendency to keep your problems to yourself," he remarked.

"Yup," Roy agreed, flashing an easy smile. "And look where it's got me."

"Shot?"

Roy punched him in the arm.

"You're an asshole," he laughed.

Kaldur just smiled.

"I learned from the best."

* * *

><p>Happiness was a strange emotion for Kaldur. He had survived on contentment for so long that he had almost forgotten what it felt like to derive joy from anything other than the fulfillment of duty.<p>

That night, he remembered.

* * *

><p>Late the next morning, there was a knock on the door. Roy, halfway through his second pot of coffee, looked up from the stove and over at Kaldur, and the two shared a look.<p>

"You wanna get that?"

"I am not exactly dressed."

"Neither am I. Trust me, no one will complain."

With a disapproving (but fond) shake of his head, Kaldur rose from the table and went to the peephole. Who would be visiting Roy at eleven in the morning on a weekday…? The new apartment wasn't exactly common knowledge yet.

It was a woman, tall and athletic, with short black hair and a strikingly pretty face, and it took him a second longer than it should have to recognize her without the blonde wig and the fishnets. But as soon as he did, he opened the door, and she stepped inside, looking up from the newspaper she'd been perusing.

"Good morning," she greeted, eyes flicking between the two boys, both in varying states of undress – Kaldur wore a loose tee shirt over his boxers, but Roy hadn't even bothered with that. "I see you've both been wildly productive today."

"Hey, I'm totally making an omelet over here," Roy objected. Dinah laughed, shaking her head and tossing the paper down onto the kitchen table as Kaldur shut the door behind her.

"Well, I suppose you've earned a day off, given the headlines you made yesterday," she said.

Stepping over to the table, Kaldur glanced down at the newspaper to see what she meant.

_ARROW PARTNERSHIP LIVES, _the front page proclaimed. Then underneath, in smaller text, _Green Arrow and Former Sidekick Team Up to Bring Down Corcifus Drug Ring._

Kaldur picked up the paper to admire the photographer's shot of the arrest – the black car they'd been chasing was on its side in the street, its occupants in the process of being handcuffed while Roy and Ollie looked on with grave expressions. In the background, Star Bridge stood sentry against a blue, blue sky.

"My favorite picture is on page three," Dinah said helpfully, looking over his shoulder. He turned to it, and with extremely mixed feelings (three parts fluttering excitement to two parts objective appreciation to five parts burning embarrassment) discovered that of course, someone had snapped a shot of their not-so-private moment in the plaza. There was no story to go with the photo, just a caption: _ Speedy celebrates his victory with fellow sidekick Aqualad._

"Classy," Dinah teased, eyes twinkling.

Roy wandered over and reached for the paper, frowning as Kaldur snatched it out of his reach.

"Don't make me hit you," said the archer threateningly, pointing the spatula at the Atlantean.

"They got your name wrong," Kaldur warned. "And referred to you as a sidekick."

"Old news," Roy dismissed. "Used to it. Lemme see."

Kaldur obeyed, and as Roy took the newspaper from him, he shared a look with Dinah, who winked at him.

"Mission accomplished?" she murmured.

"Mission accomplished," Kaldur agreed with the faintest of flushes.

"We'll see you in the Cave in a few days, then," she said. "Assuming you feel up to it. How have things been, recovery-wise?"

Truthfully, Kaldur had almost forgotten.

"They have been well," he nodded, thinking about it. "I have had so many other things to think about, it seems my body itself has been distracted for the time being."

"Well, they do say keeping busy helps," said Dinah, lips curving into a knowing smile. "And if I had to guess, I'd say you've been keeping plenty busy."

"Damn straight," Roy smirked, and Kaldur turned beet red before he realized Roy was actually remarking on the newspaper photo, which he'd just affixed to his refrigerator. The archer turned around, grinning. "We look good."

"Well," Dinah laughed, placing a hand on Kaldur's back. "I'll leave you two to enjoy your time off. I'm liking the new apartment, Roy. And the fact that it's not, well, disgusting."

"Give it time, give it time," said Roy, cracking a smile. "Send my regards to Ollie. That was one hell of a fast response yesterday."

"You say that like he doesn't keep constant tabs on you like the big sentimental worrywart he is," replied Dinah, raising an eyebrow.

"In that case, send _this_ to Ollie," said Roy, but Kaldur caught his hand before he could complete the gesture.

"Tell him yourself," she said. "I'm sure he'd be glad to hear from you."

"Yeah, well," said Roy as Dinah made for the door; when the cold air rushed in from outside, he slipped an arm around Kaldur's waist. "We'll see."

Dinah turned back to look at them both for just a moment. A strange smile twisted her mouth, as though she knew something they didn't, something too good to be put into words.

"Have a good one, boys," she said at last. "Be safe."

And with that, she was gone.

"So," Roy grinned, turning to Kaldur the instant the door clicked shut. Suddenly, the hand on Kaldur's hip was up his shirt, and Roy's mouth was at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, teeth gently scraping the dark, smooth, dense skin exposed there. The archer pulled away after a few seconds and looked Kaldur in the eye, his own glimmering with mischief. "What do you _you _want to do today?"

"I could think of a few things," Kaldur replied, as evenly as he could manage.

"Yeah?" Roy smirked. "Such as?"

Kaldur lifted a hand and let his fingertips glide meanderingly down Roy's jaw to his neck to his shoulder and then across his chest, the pressure tantalizingly light. When the archer shuddered and closed his eyes, he leaned forward, lips curling upwards in anticipation as he breathed into Roy's ear:

"Putting out the fire you have started on the stove."

Roy's eyes snapped open. It took only a backwards glance to determine the truth of Kaldur's words – the forgotten, would-be omelet had burst into flames at some point, and the smell of smoke was rapidly spreading through the apartment, threatening to set off the smoke alarm.

Kaldur laughed as Roy rushed to thrust the frying pan under the tap of the sink, dousing the whole thing into submission. As the flames subsided and the danger with it, the archer turned back to fix him with a somewhat murderous look.

"You know you're asking for it, right?"

"Am I?" Kaldur asked, eyes twinkling.

"God damn. I've created a monster. A sass monster."

"You are enjoying this as much as I am, my friend. Do not think I believe otherwise for an instant."

"Oh, get over here already."

"If you insist."

* * *

><p>Sunrise on the pier – the light spilled across the water, turning it all sorts of improbable colors as the two boys looked on from the edge of the dock, side by side.<p>

"You should probably go," Roy murmured, making absolutely no move to do so himself. "Training starts at what, eight?"

"Eight," Kaldur confirmed, equally immobile.

"Right."

A long, easy silence.

"You sure you don't want to just drop the whole Junior Justice League thing and come – "

" – Roy…"

"Never mind. Sorry."

"It is fine."

"I guess three days' vacation is more than we could have hoped for in the first place."

"True. You could always get yourself shot again."

"Don't tempt me."

"…I should go."

"You should go."

"I will be late."

"You're gonna be late."

"I am leaving now."

"Sure you are."

"If you would just – _mmmph._"

"…keep in touch, Kal."

"I will, my friend."

"Walk you to the zeta station."

"I am perfectly capable of finding it myself."

"That was a heads up, not an offer."

"I see."

* * *

><p>When he looked back on it later, Kaldur should have known that it would all have happened as it did. He had led the team long enough to know certain things about its members, to be able to predict how they would react to one thing another. His teammates were no mystery to him, most of the time.<p>

Yet somehow he was still surprised and mortified when he beamed into the Cave to find that Robin had hacked the monitor systems to display the newspaper image of him and Roy kissing on every available screen in the whole damn mountain. And somehow he was still taken aback when Wally spent all of the morning training session complaining that Kaldur had gotten time off to "get some" while Wally himself had never been granted any such privilege. And somehow he still wasn't expecting Artemis to corner him in the hallway just before lunch and make a very explicit threat on Roy's life, should her predecessor ever fail to "be a gentleman."

"You may be nineteen years too late," he'd had to tell her, and they'd both laughed at the truth in that.

(Conner and M'gann had simply smiled, for which he was grateful. Falling back into routine was tricky enough without _all_ his teammates involving themselves in his love life.)

At the end of the day, when the rest of the team had gone to hit the showers and Red Tornado had finally managed to restore the monitors to their normal state, Black Canary pulled him aside.

"You did well out there today," she told him, nodding in approval. He smiled gratefully, sheathing his waterbearers and wiping a beat of sweat from his brow. He had worked hard, and it was gratifying to know he had performed accordingly.

"It is good to be back," he said.

"And you're feeling well? No problems there?"

"None. I have not felt ill for some time, now."

"Excellent."

When she seemed to have nothing more to say, he nodded his thanks and turned to make for the showers, but she caught his arm at the last second.

"One last thing, Kaldur."

"Yes?"

"How's that…_distraction_ we spoke of earlier? Any stray thoughts now?"

He bit back a smile.

"None."

She fixed him with a look.

"Perhaps a few," he admitted sheepishly. "But I…I no longer have a desire to purge them."

"That's more like it," she smiled, and patted him on the back. "Now off you go. I'm sure Wally has plenty more questions for you to avoid answering. You wouldn't want to keep him waiting."

"Of course not."

And he headed for the showers, body sore and satisfied from the day's work. It was a long and meandering road he had taken to track down his wandering heart. But in the end, some things were worth it.


End file.
